One
by Sherbet Mayhem
Summary: The year is 1917. Captain Sasuke & his small squad are currently holed up in the support lines of WW1 & are soon to take their turn on the war-torn frontline of southern Belgium. A time for fear. A time for love. A time for heroes.
1. The beginnings of a mission

**Sherby: Welcome to my new Naruto fic - yes, another war fic. World War One this time. Non-yaoi, huzzah, and decent to boot.  
**

**I hope you enjoy it – updates will be as regular as I can make them. I wrote chapter one and two together, and they cover about ten thousand words between them, so do be patient. I try to update as fast as I can, and I'm meticulously planning and researching this thing (aah, Wikipedia) to try and be accurate. So, in appreciation of this, please leave me some love!  
**

**Enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

**Sherby xxx**

_**Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto. You all know who does. He is a god amongst men for these latest chapters. Also don't own WW1. Shucks.**_

**EDIT: Have replaced footnotes with brief bracketed explanations within the text of the chapter itself. I can't imagine how off-putting it could have been to have to scroll down and look stuff up before trying to re-find your place in the chapter. Author's notes or explanations, then, appear as follows:**

_**(I am an author's note and I explain things pretty well... yes)... EXTRA EDIT I have PUT BRACKETS in but FF is being a bit poor and not showing them. I'm hoping that'll fix itself soon. Silly website.  
**_

**Easy peasy. **

* * *

_**One**_

_**Chapter one – the beginnings of a mission**_

_15.20, 6__th__ June, 1917, Messines, Southeast Ypres, Belgium_

He thought the Yanks were supposed to be here.

Stubbing out his cigarette with a heavy laced boot and allowing his gaze to trail along a weary grey sky, Sasuke heaved a labouring breath, savouring momentarily the chalky taste of the smoke before the stench of the world around him could replace it. It was summer. The sky was supposed to be blue, and clear, and peaceful. A storm, ragged and raging and violent as bullets in the night would be better than this. An acrid lifeless skyline clung to the days and the nights, polluted by smoke and foul smells, as though the day itself had died and left behind this empty shell shadow, mouldy and colourless and miserable.

With a smirk, the Captain ceased his cigarette stubbing and began to walk the short distance back to the dugout, his mud-soaked SMLE_.(303 Short Magazine Lee Enfield; the standard issue British rifle throughout WW1)_ rifle clattering against his back as he did so. The heavy brow of his helmet pushed his thick black hair into his eyes and irritated him, but, when he had weighed up the consequences of removing his helmet and heading to the front trench metal-bald, the irritation seemed a lot less severe to him. Steel-capped boots clunked along sodden duck-boards_ (wooden planks laid down on the floor of trenches to stop soldier's feet getting too wet or muddy, as this could lead to gangrene in the feet)_ as Sasuke moved from the rear end of the back communication trench and into the dugout, affectionately termed 'Skinny' by the men. The Belgian summer was hot and sweaty, and trails of dirty perspiration clung to his pale skin.

Upon arriving at the entrance to Skinny, Sasuke coughed up a little of the crap he'd just smoked in, spat it gracelessly into a mound of mud near the edge of a duckboard, and was about to clamber into the dugout when a gentle slap to his lower right arm stopped him in his tracks. Nurse Haruno (Sakura to those who knew her well; not that Sasuke had decided whether knowing her well was a good thing) was scowling down at him with eyes that refused to dim despite the world falling down around them.

'I have got enough disease to deal with, Captain, in these dugouts. I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from sharing the filth in your lungs with the rest of the battalion'.

Sasuke offered the young nurse a smile. 'Better out than in, my mother always said'.

'Your mother's not here, Captain. Right now, I'm the closest thing you've got to a mother, so do as I say. If you don't mind your manners, the next time you hobble in here with shrapnel in your foot I might not be so kind as to remove it'.

With a reluctant sigh, Sasuke offered Nurse Haruno the closest thing she would get to an agreement; a bored looking nod that shifted the hair back down into his eyes again. He growled, and she chuckled at him.

'I would have thought you have better things to worry about than your hair, Captain'.

His scowl darkened, eyes shadowed by the bangs of hair poking out from beneath his helmet. 'I'd have a lot less worries altogether if those damned Yanks would get themselves in here.'

Nurse Haruno's pretty eyes crinkled in an appreciative manner, and she patted Sasuke on the shoulder almost patronisingly. He didn't mind; she was a good nurse and it paid to keep her sweet.

'I can always cut off those locks, Sir. I'm surprised you aren't carrying a family of lice around in that mop'.

His grin returned. 'Must be too dirty for them. Can't remember my last bath.'

Satisfied by the faux look of disgust on the nurse's face, Sasuke took his leave, stooping below the rotting wooden board nailed across the entrance of Skinny in order to enter. Kindly somebody had taken a faded pink lipstick and marked the name of the dugout across the board. Everybody needed something to do while they waited to be sent up to the front. Hands raking across the poorly constructed walls, Sasuke soon made his way to the bunkers at the rear only to find a small number of troops gathered in there already. They had pushed aside the rickety wooden beds to make a space in the centre of the small room, and were playing a game of poker with a muddy, dog-eared pack of cards.

'Afternoon, Captain,' greeted two of the five young men without looking up from their cards. Sasuke offered them a nod, remembering to stay stooped unless he wanted his head (albeit appropriately protected) to bang into the soil ceiling. The newest member of the group, a noisy blond only a year younger than himself, piped up.

'Wanna team up with me, Captain? I need some luck. Swear that Nara's cheatin' though.'

Taking a moment to process through the kid's drawl, Sasuke yawned and took a place on the floor beside Naruto, the noisy blond. 'Where's your helmet, Uzumaki?'

His tanned face fell a little, and he looked sheepish. 'This is strip poker, Sir. I lost my helmet, my boots, one of my jackets, and one sock so far.'

'You're about to lose the other,' chimed in Shikamaru Nara, Lieutenant, fully clothed. 'My flush beats your pair.'

'Tough love, Uzumaki,' cackled Kiba, playfully smacking the younger soldier on the back. 'You're gonna be pretty cold if you don't start playing with your head!'

'Pity you guys can't get Haruno to join in,' Sasuke added with a chuckle as Naruto struggled to remove his damp sock. 'Some body on her.'

'Don't you be taking a fancy to her, Captain,' smirked Nara, collecting the cards in and shuffling the deck with ease, 'We could do without you diving on a Milly just to make a visit to pretty Green Eyes out there'. _(In 1915 the British army introduced the 'Mills Bomb', a hand grenade issued to all levels of infantry and used with recorded levels of success.)_

'Trust me,' said Sasuke as Nara began to deal out the cards, including the Captain this time, 'You don't have to worry about that.' The cards were difficult to see in the dull light of the dugout, and all six soldiers had to squint to make out the patterns of the suits.

'One trip to the infirmary enough for ya, Sasuke?'

Senior Major Hatake picked up his hand and scrutinised it with his one exposed eye (a patch covered the other), not lifting his gaze to address Sasuke. After a brief moment of silence in which the final member of the group, Junior Major Hyuga, made the blind (two cigarettes, no mud, one half smoked), Sasuke answered clearly.

'Nobody likes it in there, Sir. I won't be going back if I can help it.'

* * *

S.M Hatake (unknowingly referred to as 'Copycat' behind his back by the lower-downs, due to his ability to quickly analyse the German offensive technique and utilise it successfully within his own battalion) decided to give the mission briefing over dinner. Dinner itself lasted roughly an hour, but there was no way the entire battalion could all fit into one dugout, and thus J.M Hyuga and Copycat spent their dinner trolling from one dugout to another, barking out the five minute briefing appropriate to various different areas of the squad. Of course Naruto, furious that an entire five minutes of his lunch was, in his own words, 'wasted' having to listen to a briefing, listed the Copycat's faults right through the rest of the hour, almost forgetting to eat his stew (nettle based, they all swore) and bully beef.

'Give it up, Naruto,' drawled Nara, attempting to separate his custard from his beef, which had been pooled together in the usual fashion on the one plate and had begun to meld together in an unattractive mush. 'It was only five minutes. Eat your stew and quit complaining.'

The blond scowled at him over his spoon. 'That's ok for you, Nara. You're not stuck up there with Lewis all night. I'm a dead man!' _(By 1917 every company in the British Army was equipped with four Lewis light machine guns; these guns were fixed to the ground by a heavy stand and were not designed to be carried about with one soldier. They were usually positioned at the forward face of the trench, but on a higher level than the rest of the trench; soldiers stepped up to the gun using a __firestep, a platform to allow them to see over the top of the trenchfront.)_

'Copycat's no idiot, Naruto,' Sasuke spoke quietly, his pale face the picture of concentration as he attempted to scrape custard from a small piece of bread at the side of his plate. 'Remember, _no sweat with an old sweat_. He won't send you on a suicide mission. At least you're not on cover.' _('old sweat'; slang term for an experienced soldier.)_

'Cover?'

Kiba, tearing off a chunk of bread with his sharp fanged incisors, shot Naruto a confused look. 'Never been on cover, kid?'

'Nope.'

'To advance the trench forward into enemy territory,' Shikamaru interrupted, his dry voice drawing Naruto's attention, 'we must continue to extend the trenches forward. I'm surprised you haven't noticed teams leaving in the night on dig duty.'

'I'm a heavy sleeper.'

'Regardless,' Nara continued, looking almost bored by his own explanation, 'for the teams to dig, they need cover; a team of men on lookout duty to alert them if the Huns gain scent of the expansion. It's a tough job.' _( 'Huns'; British slang for a German soldier.)_

Naruto was silent for a moment, processing this new information while he dipped his bread into his soup and munched it thoughtfully. Shikamaru pulled out a box of cigarettes and offered them around. Naruto refused; he couldn't stand those things and couldn't really comprehend why so many of the soldiers smoked.

'So there'll be a team tonight digging further into the enemy's territory?' he asked finally, swallowing his bread. Sasuke nodded curtly.

'I'm heading up cover tonight. Shino from next door is with me, as well as Shikamaru and Kiba here.'

The blonde's eyes widened as he pushed his plate away. 'You're all on cover duty?'

'Correct. Didn't you listen to Copycat?'

Kiba gave a sigh. Someone as inexperienced as Naruto could be a real burden at a crucial time like this. Copycat had explained that the sappers (_soldiers responsible for digging a 'sap' – a communication line between trenches_) and engineers were near the end of digging a so far unspotted communication trench about one-thousand metres forward into No Man's Land_ (territory resting between enemy trenches unclaimed by either side – this is where most of the fighting would take place)_. Within another fortnight, if all went to plan, a newly constructed trench would be ready for use and the squad could launch a minor surprise attack on the enemy. A year-long veteran, Kiba knew the score, knew the gravity of their situation. One idiot who didn't understand the way the game was played could ruin everything and set the force back a couple of hundred metres – maybe even thousands. They couldn't afford to let their engineers be discovered; until the Yanks showed up, they had to maintain some degree of control on the front.

'Naruto,' he said quickly, eager to dispel any thoughts of confusion in the young man's head, 'Your job is to simply watch and wait. When we get out there, you'll see that beside the main sap that is being dug, there are two shorter trenches running alongside it. That's where we'll be; the covering party, out in the listening post. The covering party's job is to look for enemy attack over the top, and alert the sappers of any dangerous developments. If the situation gets too dangerous, both the sappers and the covering party will retreat, back towards you and Lewis. Only then are you required to act. If we're retreating, it means the attacking party are heading towards the main trench, to the front line. Your job then is to act as you normally would on front line duty and take them down before they reach our trenches. You're our backup in order to maintain the safety of both the sappers and the covering party. Do you understand?'

After a short silence, Naruto nodded in affirmation. 'How will I know you're retreating, though?' he asked. 'I won't be able to see you in the darkness.'

'There'll be a sign,' Sasuke answered him, cleaning his plate and pulling out a cigarette of his own. 'Kiba's our runner; I'll probably send him back if there's an emergency. Otherwise, I'll light a match; throw it up over the top. It's not the best method of communication, but I can't think of anything else you'll see without the daylight. My radio won't stretch all the way back to you.'

Again, Naruto nodded. 'I got it, Captain. Either Kiba alerts me, or I see a match. And then I shoot.'

'Correct, soldier'.

Shikamaru yawned, showing off his pearly teeth. 'Kids these days. They're dropped onto the front line without a hint of experience. No wonder this war is taking so damn long.'

He dragged on his cigarette, closing his eyes as his lungs burned pleasantly. 'What a pain.'

* * *

When the dying sky slipped into inky darkness once again the covering party was well prepared, helmet straps fastened, rifles slung to their backs, hand grenades in pocket. Naruto had, ten minutes earlier, made his way up to his pillbox (_reinforced concrete machine gun post_) and was manning his post silently, bright eyes scouring the area ahead with distaste. Even in the cover of night the rising fumes and ugly clouds lifting from the explosion of a well-tossed hand grenade could be seen quite clearly. The darkness of the air around them combined with the musky swirls of rubble created a sort of mist, difficult to see through and frightening. If he squinted very hard he could just about make out the silhouette of Captain Sasuke briefing the rest of the men before the engineers and sappers moved down into the deep tunnels below. Sasuke was smoking a cigarette, and a thin, hardly noticeable trail of smoke frittered up from its glowing edge and into the black air around them.

Tonight was important, he was told after dinner by Shikamaru. Very important. Plans laid down years before were coming together and if everything went off as it should then the Allied forces would gain a 'real advantage'. Just as he had clambered to his post, Naruto had also been stopped by Captain Sasuke, who, after studying him for a quick moment, told him to expect a 'lot of noise' and handed him two crudely put together ear plugs. Apparently most of the cover party had been given them, but he didn't like to wear them in case they dulled his hearing. 'Like I said,' he had commented almost monotonously, eyeing up Lewis in a familiar manner, 'consider yourself lucky you're not on cover. Your job is easy enough. Protect this line, and keep your head down. If it all works out, you shouldn't need to fire a single round'.

And so there Naruto sat, blue eyes trained upon the horizon as far as he could manage, fingers curled tightly around the handle of the machine gun, prepared and yet not nervous, waiting quietly for the action that should not happen. The air around him was hot and heavy, and he had removed his outer jacket, leaving only a think khaki vest and his tags dangling about his neck. Beneath him, below the top edge of the parapet, two soldiers he did not know stood waiting with ammunition at the ready in their hands. They looked younger than he himself was.

Meanwhile, Cover Party Seven (out of twenty-one, so Sasuke had heard) was being briefed yet again. Copycat was kindly enough, but his experience made him sharp and unforgiving when it came to error. The eye patch was intimidating to newcomers and his ability to pierce through situations with cutting words often left the troops in frightened awe of him. Sasuke threw his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it conscientiously, half listening in. He didn't mind the old man too much.

'It is absolutely imperative,' spoke Kakashi, and Sasuke got the impression that he'd missed something important in the previous sentence, 'that these engineers are _not_ found out. Tonight has been two years in the making and I am not prepared to let it go because you lot get a little edgy and decide to start up a game of poker in the sap. You will be on form and alert at all times. Is that clear?'

Cover Seven nodded, Kiba looking unusually enthusiastic while the quiet Shino, hidden as always behind a pair of spectacles, moved his head so little that Kakashi glared at him a little before continuing.

'Kiba and Shikamaru, you're in the left sap. I want you listening for digger Huns that may intercept the engineers. No hand to hand down there tonight if you can help it, and absolutely no blind fire. Captain, Aburame, you're in the right sap. It runs closer to the surface, with the occasional look out posts for you to clamber up and have a look around. No smoking, Captain. You have no idea how bright those coffin nails glow in this mist. No unwanted attention, you with me?'

Sasuke, caught in the motion of pulling out another cigarette from his breast pocket, reluctantly replaced it in its box and handed the entire packet over to the Major. 'I know how many are in there, Copycat. I want them back in the morning. All of them.'

Kakashi seemed not to hear him as he placed the small packet in his back pocket. The three tunnel engineers and three sappers had gathered at the entrance to the deep mine shaft and were looking at him expectantly. Feeling a little naked without his helmet, Copycat ran a hand through his silvering hair.

'It's an important mission, soldiers, but I'm quite sure you can pull this off. I know we've had a tough time of it lately, but if—' he stopped himself, analysing his own words, '—_when_ we complete this mission, we'll have made significant ground and taken out more than a few Alleymen to boot.' _('Alleyman'; British slang term for a German soldier)_

The engineers and sappers seemed satisfied with his vote of confidence in their abilities, and Cover Seven looked mildly appeased. Shikamaru stubbed out the dirty cigarette he had been smoking and spoke, smoke churning out of his mouth as he did so. 'Target time for completion, Major?'

Kakashi checked his watch, his one exposed eye dark in the night air. 'Final orders stand at zero-three-hundred hours and ten. It is now twenty-one-hundred hours and thirty. Just short of six hours for you to _not_ make a mistake, Nara. Can you manage?'

Shikamaru scowled at the Major and nodded. Kakashi continued.

'While you're making your way out there the bombardment of the German lines will continue as it has done for the past two weeks. This should make life easier for those in the right hand sap, as unfortunately the Huns aren't stupid enough to run out into the face of a mortar attack. However, we've become aware of active counter mining from the Germans for the past month or so, and our sappers have run into significant difficulty down there. Kiba and Nara, I want you listening out at all – and I mean all – times. You have your radio, and the sappers have theirs. Keep in close, quiet contact. Captain, the bombardment is due to cease at zero-two-fifty. At this point I want you retreating, all of you, fast. You don't want to stick around there to see the fun. I want you back on front lines by zero-three-twenty at the _latest_ so I can brief you with your next orders. Do I make myself absolutely clear?'

A more resounding nod from the men this time left Major Kakashi in no doubt that his instructions were understood. He gave them a smile.

'We may not make history tomorrow, gentlemen,' his voice lacked the barking authority it held as he lashed out orders, 'but we will certainly change the geography. To your posts.'

A sharp salute later and the soldiers had disappeared into their relative saps. Glancing up at the black sky, infiltrated here and there with purplish clouds, Copycat pulled out one of the cigarettes from his back pocket and lit up. With any luck, the Captain wouldn't notice.

* * *

**Sherby: And that's that. Come on guys, drop me a little love!**

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	2. Courage in the face of adversity

**And here we are at One – chapter two. I do hope you enjoyed the first. Drop me some love in the form of a review at the end and let me know if you have any suggestions, complaints, etc. Again, major EDIT involving the replacement of footnotes with in-chapter explanations in the form of _(author's notes like this) _to make things easier for you.  
**

**Disclaimer: You know I don't own Naruto. If I did, Sasuke would have jumped off the page and claimed me as his own by now. You know what I mean. Drop me some love!  
**

**Sherby xxx**

* * *

_**One**_

_**Chapter two – courage in the face of adversity**_

Sasuke wanted a cigarette. Badly. His fingers were trembling in that way he knew he would the minute he handed over his half empty packet of Lucky Strikes to the Major. It was the smell he hated; the smell that normally the taste of tobacco smoke rolling around in his mouth would dampen and destroy. The scent of No Man's Land.

Shino was deathly quiet, as always, and did his job with efficiency. They'd been moving down the sap slowly and silently, listening to the thunderous barrage from above and attempting to discern any warning sounds of enemy advancement from the melee, and had reached the end point about three hours ago. Sasuke checked his pocket watch. Zero-two-forty-one. An hour earlier Kiba had radioed in and through the crackly static the Captain had managed to ascertain that there had been a small scuffle in the left hand sap but the Huns had been dealt with quickly. The engineers and the sappers in the central shaft were safe.

'Nine minutes, Sir,' Shino whispered through the relative darkness of the shaft. 'Nine more minutes and then we retreat.'

Sasuke, chewing the skin around his thumb for want of something to put in his mouth, nodded. 'Correct, soldier. How long since last look out?'

'Almost half an hour, Captain.'

Sasuke sighed. It was his turn to push himself up through the loophole_ (small hole either made by separating sandbags on the top edge of the front line trench or fitted with a steel plate into the soil or mud)_ in the ceiling of their shaft and take a look around on the surface. The smell filtering down from up there was bad enough. Now he had to once again meet it head on in the darkness of the early morning.

He didn't really fully understand what was going on. He knew clearly, though, that there was some sort of plan he was failing to catch on to, almost as though he were excluded from the knowledge that the brass_ (military slang for higher ups or officers within the army) _shared. The mission was important, that he knew. He had been handed a pair of ear plugs, but had passed them on to Naruto earlier, knowing the banging audible effect of the rounds Lewis churned out at high speed. Thus, he expected a lot of noise, but couldn't really imagine how anything could be louder or more awful than the sound of the ever constant barrage in the distance. They'd been ordered to retreat quickly from their posts just before final orders were implemented at ten past three, and so knew that whatever was going to happen was too dangerous for them to stick around and see it. All this he had filtered from orders and intuition, and yet nobody had explained to him the entirety of the plan being executed early this morning. Major Kakashi seemed to know about it. He would even guess that Shikamaru had figured the whole thing out. Accordingly bitter that he was being asked to protect with his life (and his men's lives) a plan which he did not even understand, the Captain pulled his thumb out of his mouth and nodded towards Shino.

'Radio on. I'll be back down in five minutes.'

Hearing the click of Shino's radio being tuned to his own frequency, Sasuke stretched his arms up to the steel-rimmed loophole leading out onto No Man's Land, gripped the edges tightly, and hauled himself up into the darkness.

* * *

Lieutenant Shikamaru was having to think. He didn't mind thinking; on the whole he was of the opinion that thinking was one of his strong points. He was certainly a better thinker than a fighter, and often thought that he would be much better off in military offices somewhere, poring over a crinkled map of what was left of Europe, planning the next move for the Allies and taking down the Germans from behind a desk. Copycat disagreed, claiming that Nara's quick-thinking mind was much better tested out on the field and his strategic skill was invaluable in the panic-ridden midst of battle.

Regardless of whether he agreed with the Major's appraisal of his talents or not, Shikamaru despised having to think under pressure. He played his poker cards slowly, carefully, and came out top each time. His game of chess was dull to watch yet a joy to analyse, his moves tediously yet tentatively calculated to outplay his opponent. He liked to take his time over any decision, following down the consequential routes and weighing up options without the interfering hurries and worries of everyday life getting in the way. Right now, with two unconscious Alleymen at his feet and Kiba reporting the hints of a mining patrol less than one hundred metres away, Shikamaru had no time spare.

The two German soldiers had tunnelled right into their sap, seemingly completely unaware of their presence. Taking heed of Kakashi's 'no blind fire' order from hours earlier, Nara and Kiba had taken out the Huns with fists and a pocket knife, and they soon lay motionless yet alive on the soily ground of the shaft. Not wanting to kill the soldiers unnecessarily, Shikamaru had ordered Kiba to tie them up tightly and had started to think about the next move to make. He had concluded that more men may follow along the tunnel the Germans had arrived through, and so they had entered into it a few metres and pulled down the thin ceilings, creating a fairly tough obstacle for any oncoming enemy tunnellers if they tried to follow where their friends had gone. An hour later though, and his thinking time was depleted. Kiba, ear to the wall, one of the best listeners Nara knew, had reported the faint sounds of enemy diggers heading towards the central mining shaft from the north, as well as hearing the odd noise or two down the enemy tunnel that they had blocked off.

And so it was decision time. Shikamaru could easily send Kiba, his runner, across through a small communication trench about one hundred metres back to alert the engineers and sappers in the central shaft that they were in danger. However that would leave him alone to face the Germans who may or may not find their way through the collapsed tunnel wall. Kiba hadn't been able to determine how many soldiers there were but he guessed at more than five, and Shikamaru didn't feel up to a suicide mission all alone in this dank tunnel. He could go with Kiba on the run to the central shaft but that left the option open of the Germans discovering this tunnel, stumbling upon the communication shaft, and finding their way into the central shaft, thus cornering both the engineers and themselves and jeopardising the mission. Shikamaru hadn't been told directly, but he could guess that the engineers _had_ to remain at their positions until zero-two-fifty hours, and that it was imperative that they did not leave before then. At the same time, he was aware that the game was up if the Germans discovered the central shaft and what lay at the end of it.

Perspiration clinging to his helmeted brow in the oppressive heat of the tunnel, Nara flicked his radio to a local frequency. 'Captain,' he hissed quietly into the receiver, 'Captain? Are you there? Over.'

Shino responded, his deep voice splintering into the speaker. 'Sasuke's up top, Nara. Anything I can help with? Over.'

'Report of two possible parties, one heading in from the north, one heading toward Kiba and I, west-north-west. Strong possibility of the second party breaking into this sap – their tunnel into ours is already constructed, though we brought some of the ceiling down. North party heading straight for main shaft. A little help? Over.'

Kiba watched Shikamaru with eyes slanted in worry as the Lieutenant waited for his reply. The silence was hot and clammy in the stuffy tunnel. The response eventually crackled through, Shino sounding unsure.

'Trap the second party. Few wire traps, few boobies. Couple of shells on the floor. Then retreat to the main shaft, take down your own sap as you go. Remain in the main sap and listen out for the north party. With any luck, they won't—'

Shino was momentarily silent as the ringing sound of two clear gunshots echoed down the radio. Kiba jumped a little at the stark noise, but then Shino's voice returned to them, sounding a little panicked.

'I have to go, over.'

The transmission ended, and Shikamaru and Kiba waited for a moment, taking in the hissing sound of the empty waves. Turning off the receiver, Shikamaru deftly reached into his back pocket, pulling out a roll of wire.

'You heard the man, Kiba. We have to move quickly. Get this trip wire laid out and fast.'

Kiba saluted smartly, and pulled out a similar roll of glinting silver wire. 'Sir, yes Sir.'

* * *

Shino resisted the urge to drop his radio to the ground and poke his head out through the loophole. The two gunshots had been clear enough, and loud; surely no more than fifteen metres away over the top. He could see nothing as he peered up into the darkness, and so he brought his radio to his lips and spoke quietly, attempting to hide the adrenaline and shaking from his voice.

'Captain, do you copy? Over.'

There was no response, although Shino could swear he could hear his own voice echoing from above the loophole. He tried again, and still received no response. The heat seemed to close in on him, and his back was damp with sticky tension. Sweat clung to his nose and he fidgeted beneath his spectacles, torn between moving up top and waiting for further orders. The sound of his heart was loud in his throat. He swallowed. The saliva was dry. Seconds ticked on. Shino waited.

His curiosity was soon dispelled when his Captain plummeted down through the loophole, entwined viciously with a yellowish-green uniform clad German, both of their faces pulled back in primal snarls. Shino leaped backward to avoid impalement from the German's helmet, on top of which rested a sharp metal spike, and the two tussling men slammed into the ground and rolled apart _(This type of helmet was called a 'Picklehaube'. German soldiers could wear either a picklehaube or a steel helmet without the spike)_. Recovering quickly from his shock, Shino pulled out his trench knife and swiftly embedded it in the enemy soldier's spine, dragging downwards as he did so. Sasuke scrambled toward the soldier and clasped his dirty hand over his mouth to muffle any cry of pain he might give off. After a moment he snapped the soldier's neck to the side, effectively ending his life as quietly as possible. He then fell back onto his haunches, slumping against the wall of the tunnel, panting heavily. 'Fucking Fritz'._ ('Fritz'; slang term for the Germans.)_

Shino moved over to his side, moving awkwardly over the dead German soldier. 'Are there more?'

Sasuke shook his head. The leather strap of his helmet had come undone beneath his chin and it hung at an odd angle on his head. 'There were two of them, up top. I tried to take them out quietly – shot one, missed the other. They were sniffing around the ground near the central sap – couldn't just leave them to fall right on top of… well, whatever it is they're hiding in there.'

Shino relaxed momentarily. 'Holy shit, Sasuke. I thought you'd been shot.'

The panting Captain offered him a small smile. 'It's not so easy to get rid of me, Shino. I wouldn't try sleeping on this floor, though, if I were you. Hard as nails.'

He rubbed his back with a grimace, before glancing over again at the dead German on the floor. 'Why the hell they were wandering around No Man's Land in the middle of a bombardment I do not know.'

'Can't credit Squareheads with a lot of intelligence, Sir.' _('Squarehead'; slang term for the Germans)_

The two fell into silence, listening to the not-so-distant sound of the onslaught being reaped upon the German front lines. Sasuke coughed, trying to clear the pungent taste of the air up top from his lungs.

'What time is it, Shino?' he asked after a while, not realising he had started chewing on his index finger. He scowled at the taste – soil had clearly found its way underneath his fingernails. Shino glanced at his own watch.

'Zero-two-forty-nine, Sir'.

Sasuke smirked and reached for his radio, ignoring the throbbing in his lower back from where the heavy German had slammed him into the floor of the tunnel. He pressed a small button in the side of the receiver and spoke quietly but firmly.

'Engineers, do whatever you have to do. You've got thirty seconds before we're retreating. Nara, everything alright your end? Over.'

The reply was fast. 'We're managing, Sir. Awaiting your orders. Over.'

As the thirty seconds ticked by, Shino noticed a strange silence fall upon the air outside the tunnel. The noise of the barrage, the ongoing bombardment, ceased as eerily as it had begun all those days ago, and an empty, haunting silence tumbled down into his ears, echoing in the vacant, sweating darkness. Sasuke seemed to have noticed it too – he raised his head and gazed out of the loophole. A shaft of moonlight fell in upon the two soldiers. Their pale skin and dark uniforms glowed upon their profiles. They looked like ghostly shadows, scratched out in chalk against the darkness of the tunnel.

'Engineers', Sasuke's authoritative voice clipped through the hollow silence, 'Are you ready? Over.'

The head engineer (Sasuke couldn't remember his name) replied politely. 'Sir, we are. Our task is complete. Over.'

Once again Sasuke checked his watch. Zero-two-fifty-one. 'Soldiers,' he spoke into the receiver, straightening his back and wincing as it clicked a little uncomfortably, 'Fall back. Head home. Over and out.'

* * *

Up on his pillbox, Naruto was bored. He had long ago developed cramp in his fingers from squeezing the handle of Lewis so tightly and no longer even kept hold of it. He lay, belly-down on the muddy soil, attempting to keep his eyes open as the minutes ticked by. The stale scent of smoke drifted into his nostrils and he scrunched his face up, barely listening to the conversation that his artillerymen were having in the trench below. He was too hot, and could hardly resist the urge to kick off his boots.

Briefly, he wondered what it would be like to go 'over the top', as they said. Over the parapet (_the forward facing top lip of the front trench)_. Up into No Man's Land. Conscripted into the army four months ago, Naruto hadn't had time for experience _(Conscription was introduced in Britain in 1916 when volunteers for the war, so eager at first - before they heard the horror stories that experienced soldiers returned with - began to die down and the army started to run out of soldiers; single men of age eighteen or over were drafted into the forces whether they liked it or not_). He'd spent a quick month in the Bull Ring _(training ground behind the lines where new recruits could be prepared for front line service_) training before being moved into reserve in Ypres for two months, and before long he was moved to the support line, where he had remained for the past month. If he was honest, it had been fairly easy so far – although well trained (especially, his officer had commented, on the machine gun; apparently his talent lay in turning a handle and aiming) and he had not yet experienced a real battle. However, he knew his shift on the front line was indeed coming around, and, from what he had heard from his comrades, it was not something to look forward to. Out of those he associated with, Kakashi had served the most often on the front line, returning from it alive (usually a casualty of some sort) seven times. Neji followed at five, Sasuke and Shikamaru at four, and Kiba two. Part of him resented his lack of experience, as he got the feeling that the others thought of him as a fool. The sensible part of him rebuked such a thought; he would rather be a fool with no battle experience than die on the field, plastered in mud, blood, and tragedy.

Stifling a yawn, Naruto checked his watch. Zero-three-hundred hours and nine. The barrage on the enemy lines seemed to have died down about fifteen minutes ago, and he had now familiarised himself with the hissing silence that had followed in its wake. The sounds hadn't been too bad for him, thanks to the stuffy earplugs that the Captain had handed him earlier, but they seemed to add a certain fuzzy quality to the silence in the air around him, broken by the conversation below him. As another yawn built up in his throat, he wondered how Cover Seven were doing; how Nara would cope under the pressure he always complained that they threw on him, or how Sasuke would manage without his cigarettes (he smoked far too many, by his own admission). He missed their idle chatter already – perhaps that was because he wasn't included in the chatter of the men below him on the firestep.

He wasn't given very much time to ponder this exclusion.

About a mile to the north of where he lay the horizon lit up in a golden and blue ignition, shafts of glowing soil and embers hurtled high into the dusty night air like fountains of molten lava injecting themselves to the heavens. If Naruto watched hard enough he could make out fifteen, maybe more of the fiery eruptions blasting up and penetrating the darkness. It was strange, watching such beautiful patterns forming against the blackness of the skyline in utter silence, their turbulent malevolent fangs and branches reaching out into the night like a mute ballet dancer. He couldn't turn his eyes away from the glow.

Then the sound hit him.

Hard. It smacked into his ear-plugged ears like a boxer's fist clouting him left and right, left and right. For a moment the beautiful glow that had held him so hypnotically was erased from his mind as he squeezed his blue eyes shut tight, grinding his teeth together as he pressed his hands desperately to his ears, agony scratched across his face, curling up into the ground. He was quite certain he was crying out some obscenity or other but he couldn't hear his own voice, his own thoughts, even his own heartbeat – all was an encompassing blast as the exquisite explosions detonated in the distance.

* * *

They were about two minutes from the front line trench exit of the sap when the explosions hit. Sasuke and Shino had rejoined the others in the central tunnel via a communication shaft and they were all running at a decent level when all of their shadows were illuminated in a blistering light that ricoched along the dark walls around them. They halted immediately, curious as each of their faces reflected the fiery radiance dancing amongst them. The engineers looked overjoyed and their faces lit with something other than the phosphorence in the tunnel.

Sasuke turned back toward the blast of light with a sense of realisation. Explosives. All these years, all these cover missions… they'd been digging out a thousand metres worth of tunnel deep into enemy lines and planting an explosive right beneath them. The barrage on the German front was a stroke of genius; as soon as the barrage finished the Fritz would assume they were about to be attacked over the top and send their men to front lines – and the explosion would catch them all. Sasuke's mind whirred as he ran over the numbers again in his head. They were Cover Party Seven – seven of twenty one. How many explosives had been detonated deep within the heart of enemy territory?

His musings were cut short by the sound wave that blasted along the thin tunnel, bombarding into them with such physical force that they were bowled into the ground as though by a great wind. Then the sound wave hurtled into their heads viciously, rattling around their heads and erasing all other senses. Sasuke felt his own fingers fumbling around his helmet in a futile attempt to drag it down over his throbbing ears and protect them from the offensive. His eyes were wide open, unable to focus on anything at all, unable to see, caught up by the sheer volume of the explosive. His stomach was turning and churning as his body curled up on the hard ground, unable to register his own actions, until the sound stopped.

It stopped. The walls of the tunnel shook and trembled from the might of the sound wave, and ringing echoes swept back and forth along the underground lengths. Sasuke found himself facing the ground, fists clenched about the side of his head, his arm being shaken by one of the engineers.

'Sir,' the sound was distant and muffled, and without looking at the small man's lips Sasuke doubted he would have been able to make out what was being said, 'Sir? Are you alright, Sir?'

Arms shaking, Sasuke pulled his fists down from his ears and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Taking a deep breath he looked around, examining his men. Shikamaru seemed alright, albeit a little dazed, and Shino was on his feet, checking his balance. The engineers and sappers seemed to be managing, and some of them still wore a proud expression on their faces. Kiba, however, was still on the ground, blood leaking from the ear that Sasuke could see. His face was clothed in pain.

'Kiba,' his own voice came out but he could not hear it because of the fuzzy, thick ringing in his head. 'Kiba! Are you alright?'

Kiba didn't seem to hear him at all, despite the fact that he could tell he was shouting because of the air passing through his vocal chords, and so Sasuke attempted to push himself to his feet. The world spun dizzyingly and his stomach churned again. When his vision focused Shikamaru's face was before his own, his hands clutching him by the shoulders.

'Take it easy', Sasuke could just about make out, 'What happened to your earplugs?'

Earplugs. Sasuke bit back a curse as he remembered who exactly had his earplugs. While he thought, Shikamaru pulled out a grotty looking handkerchief and swabbed Sasuke's right ear with it, bringing it into his Captain's line of swimming vision. Clotted deep red spattered across the white of the cloth. This time Sasuke didn't bite back his curse. His ears were bleeding, just like Kiba's. He had probably taken them out in order to fulfil his role as chief listener when he was in the left hand tunnel earlier.

The Captain watched as clearly as he could as Shino hauled Kiba to his feet. The young soldier was pale, trembling, and looked as though he would fall to his knees at any given moment. Shino wrapped Kiba's arm around his own shoulders and steadied him, and Sasuke was surprised to find Shikamaru doing the same for him. As he was pulled forward his head throbbed, and, in front of him, Kiba leaned away from Shino and vomited onto the now dark ground. The vibrant light from moments earlier had dissipated with the terrible noise, and they were left in a ringing darkness. Close to his left, Shikamaru too looked pasty and ill, although his ears were not bleeding. Clearly he hadn't taken out his earplugs, but the sound must have affected him too, for Sasuke could feel Shikamaru's body trembling as he helped him along.

Sasuke sighed, trying to fight off the sick feeling rising steadily in his stomach, allowing his feet to drag along the ground as Shikamaru pulled him forward. He became increasingly aware of his helmet pushing his hair into his eyes in that way he hated, and the dark tunnel around him was interlaced with jagged spikes of blackness wherever he looked. Through the thickness in his ears he could hear the engineers discussing something loudly behind him, but the words were garbled and sounded as though they were underwater. Occasionally Nara said something to him, and by the tone of it he could imagine the words were those of encouragement, but he could not make them out.

Absently, as they moved gingerly through the tunnel, Sasuke wondered if Naruto was managing well enough. Hopefully he would not be suffering from the same deafness (temporary, Sasuke reassured himself with as much force as he was able) as Kiba and himself were, and was manning his pillbox with confidence. For a new kid he didn't seem bad; a little naïve, he supposed, but that would die off when he saw some time on the front line. As soon as he could balance on his own again he was going to smack his earplugs out of the kid's ears.

A dull grey light suddenly dawned upon the men, and Sasuke realised they had been travelling uphill and had reached the exit of the trench. He guessed it was almost four in the morning, and the dusty dawn was beginning to leak over the edges of the night sky. Sasuke squinted his eyes and the men around him did the same. Kiba didn't seem able to lift his head to greet the drab light around them as they clambered out of the tunnel and into the reserve trench.

Senior Major Kakashi stood waiting for them at the exit, hoary hair dusky in the pale grey dawn. His eye watched over them as they stood to attention as well as they could, some of the engineers saluting but none of the covering party bothering; they either had a burden in the way of their salute, or couldn't find the energy to bring their hand to their head. Watching his senior's lips, Sasuke could just about make out the words 'Good job, troops' before Nurse Haruno burst out from behind him, pink locks tied up beneath her white cotton hairnet, red cross blazoned across her chest. She immediately went to Kiba, who genuinely did look as though he were about to sink into unconsciousness, and examined his face, eyes, and ears quickly. Once she had ascertained that his injuries were not life threatening she seemed to order Shino to carry Kiba to the Casualty Clearing Station to get him checked out. As Shino shuffled off as best he could with Kiba leaning heavily on his shoulders, Nurse Haruno approached Sasuke and Shikamaru (who, Sasuke had noticed, was looking paler and paler by the minute). Her hands, harder than Sasuke had ever imagined, took his face roughly, and turned it right and left, up and down, examining him with those bright eyes. She scowled at him.

'Thought you'd be a tough guy and take out your earplugs, huh, Captain?'

Sasuke felt too sick to answer. Practically growling, she moved onto Shikamaru, delicately pulling his earplugs out of his ears only to dangle them in Sasuke's face.

'I suggest you get yourself a pair of these, Sir. Then perhaps you won't show up here after a mission looking like a dying dog, leaning on the Lieutenant here as though you're a useless plank of wood.'

Shikamaru winced at her loud words, everything suddenly seeming louder now that she had taken out his earplugs. Next to him, Sasuke gave a weak chuckle, momentarily glad that he couldn't hear her insults because of the ringing in his ears. Her frown lessening a little, she sighed.

'Daft men. All trying to be heroes. Any other injuries, Captain, Lieutenant?'

Shikamaru answered a fairly hearty 'no', whereas Sasuke shook his head slightly. The bruises to his back were not worth mentioning. As much as he'd like her to strip him down and examine his body, Sasuke (regretfully) knew it was wrong to waste a nurse's time. Nurse Haruno's pretty face broke out into a smile.

'You know where to go, boys. Clearing Station. Give my nurses any trouble and I'll come in there and deal with you personally. And no, Captain, that does not mean what you choose to think it means.'

Sasuke didn't know whether it was being out in the dull light where he could at least see a little of the area around him, but he was starting to feel distinctly better. Bracing himself, he unslung his arm from the exhausted looking Lieutenant Nara and balanced on his own two feet unsteadily. He offered Nurse Haruno the handsomest grin he could muster, well aware that he looked like death warmed up.

'Anyone ever tell you, Haruno,' he said, attempting as well as he could to inject his voice with what he imagined would sound like charm, 'how pretty your eyes look in the morning light?'

'He's right, you know, Ma'am,' added Shikamaru, trying to control the trembling in his limbs and ignoring the churning that had suddenly made itself known in his stomach. 'You're a sight for sore eyes.'

Before she could even begin to muster up a reply, Shikamaru had turned around, and he and the Captain were walking shakily away in the direction of the Clearing Station. Nurse Haruno watched their retreating backs, particularly Sasuke's, with a smirk, shaking her head at their audacity. The two soldiers, brave in the face of adversity, dark tunnels, and a pretty woman, managed to make it around the corner of the trench before they both vomited up their bully beef.

* * *

**Sherby: Well, that's the end of two! Drop me a little love when you leave!**


	3. Platoon Seven's New Mission

**Sherby**: And here I am with chapter three! You thought I wouldn't be back, didn't you? Ha-ha! I have been plotting very carefully and doing a LOT of research on World War One in order to keep this story vaguely historically accurate – if you're interested, the last two chapters covered a real battle – the Battle of Messines in 1917, and it happened pretty much so… but without the 2D characters. Thus I have been looking into the next battle in some detail.

I got my degree result, by the way, folks, if you don't already know. A first in English. Ohhhhh yes. To congratulate me on my (pretty much undeserved) success (I must be the stupidest student to get a first EVER) why not drop me a little love at the end of the chapter? Be nice!

Thank you to 'Follower of Light', who left me a wonderful review assuring me that the lack of reviews for this work does not reflect its quality. Also to Kei, who reads even when she doesn't have the time. This chapter is for you!

Enjoy the third chapter! As always, Author's notes appear in _(italicised brackets)_.

* * *

**One**

_**Chapter three – Platoon Seven's New Mission**_

_7.15pm, 14__th__ June, 1917, Messines, South East Ypres, Belgium_

'Apparently the Flash heard the blasts all the way in his office!'

Kiba, thin bandages wrapped around his ears and forehead, scowled at the ever-chirpy Naruto, eyes narrowing into twinkling slits. 'Lucky for him. I wonder if _his_ eardrums are perforated as well as mine.'

Naruto chuckled in good humour, ignoring Kiba's glare. About a week since the explosions had detonated along the Messines ridge, Kiba's sharp hearing had still not returned to what it once was – that shy-eyed mouse of a nurse had pronounced his eardrums perforated the morning he had limped into the clearing station leaning heavily into Second Lieutenant Aburame, as well as declaring that he had suffered mild head trauma in throwing himself to the floor at the moment of the blasts. Thus, two weeks of bed rest and boredom and a twice-daily inspection of his eardrums (circumstances allowing) were prescribed, and Kiba's days had melted away into a relaxing and yet tediously quiet week of mild earache. The occasional visitor cheered his spirits immensely (even the annoying blond kid was more interesting than the grey cloth ceiling above him), and Kiba had even managed to organise a poker night for the current evening. Naruto was the first to arrive, and was keeping Kiba company for the time being.

The clearing station was separated into a number of sections depending on the severity and condition of a solider and his wounds. Kiba's condition was certainly not life threatening and he had been moved to the Recoup. Unit of the clearing station almost straight away after the nurse with the stutter had finished diagnosing him. The Recoup. Unit was situated right at the back of the series of white-grey tents that made up one of many medical clearing stations; the front end of the station was kept clear for incoming casualties who may need emergency treatment. Behind that was the area Kiba had decided he hated the most – the 'treatment of serious or prolonged injury' area; the section where sufferers of gangrene, poison, or shrapnel wounds recovered weakly or waited to die. Recoup was fairly lively and most of the soldiers were cheerful enough, but Nurse Haruno demanded that a decent level of quiet was maintained throughout the unit due to the fact that some soldiers were recovering from shell-shock or more serious wounds and needed their rest in order to recover to the best of their ability. Many a time had she glanced in at Naruto and hissed at him with those bright green eyes to quieten down. His jovial reply was always loud and merry, and it seemed that even Haruno's stern attitude could not dampen his chipper spirits.

Kiba's scowl relaxed. His hearing had improved quickly over the past few days, and the bandages, insisted the mouse-nurse Hyuga, were just a precaution ('With all the…um…infections flying around…um…Private Inuzuka…we need to…make s-sure you don't…um…'). From the second day of his rest he had been able to hear Naruto through the bandages; Naruto, who had spent the night of the explosions quite happily firing away from his machine gun post offering back up to the forces rushing into the madness created by the Twenty-One infiltration units, and returned to Skinny the dugout the following day without a scratch on him. Two of the engineers in Unit Seven had required a quick check up twenty-four hours after the attack after reporting a strong ringing in their ears, and Second Lieutenant Aburame, Lieutenant Nara and Captain Uchiha had all been ordered to take a week of rest – if not bed rest, then at least relaxing in and about the reserve lines, staying as far away from the front as possible. Shikamaru had visited Kiba every day, attempting to smuggle in the odd smoke (and, to Kiba's astonishment, a miniature glass chessboard with almost all of the pieces intact) when Haruno's eyes were diverted to the other sections of the clearing station. One nurse didn't seem to mind – a cute blond creature who insisted that the boys call her 'Ino' – and allowed Shikamaru certain liberties when it came to sneaking Kiba bits and bobs to keep him entertained.

Naruto was still saying something about how the blasts from the mines had stretched all the way into London and beyond when Lieutenant Shikamaru ambled through the door, a long blade of coarse, dry grass angled in his teeth and poking out almost as much as the ends of his (much shorter, since he was drafted) hair did. He was closely followed by Captain Sasuke, who wore ('As usual!' thought Naruto with a wry grin) a frown darker than Kiba's had been moments before. The young private could not contain himself.

'What the heck is with that face, oh Captain, my Captain?'

The pale-faced Captain's glower deepened as he pulled over a crudely constructed stool and took a seat next to Kiba's bed, and Shikamaru, mirroring his movements, offered Naruto a chuckle.

'Haruno confiscated his cigarettes. Poor old Sasuke here can't _touch_ a smoke until he leaves the clearing station and Pinkie hands them back to him.'

As though Shikamaru's explanation had simply exacerbated the situation, Sasuke ran a hand over his face, sighing deeply before plucking out the blade of grass from Shikamaru's mouth and placing it in his own. 'This'll have to do for now, Nara.'

Smiling as Shikamaru took his turn to scowl, Kiba felt his spirits lift further. Moments like these took his mind away from the thought that in a week he'd be back out there, helmet strapped back on, bandages stripped back off, rifle prepared and bed a distant memory.

'Who brought the deck?'

Shikamaru pulled out a ragged deck of cards from his breast pocket. He raised his eyebrows to Kiba and smirked. 'Thought I could leave these with you after we leave – keep you company on the lonely nights…'

Kiba took the deck, confused, realisation hitting him as he sifted through the dog-eared cards to discover emblazoned upon them images of women in swimsuits and negligees, hair all curled and bouncy, lips scarlet and pouting, hips and tiny waists outlined in glowing perfect silhouette. Grinning from ear to ear, he nodded to Shikamaru. 'Where on earth did you find these?'

Naruto ogled the cards in awe as Shikamaru simply replied, snatching his grass stalk back off his Captain, 'I have my methods'.

'He won them in a bet with a scared little corporal in twelfth platoon,' Sasuke droned, leaning over to steal a glance at the cards. 'Bet that kid loves you, Shikamaru.'

The lazy thinker laughed. 'Yeah, well, that'll teach him to gamble so recklessly. Check the broad on the ace of spades.'

Kiba flicked through the pack until the ace of spades turned up, and all four men peered over. Naruto whistled out loud as his eyes fell upon the busty brunette. 'Good God. That lady there, that one right there, better be waiting for me when I get home.'

He took a seat on an empty bed next to Kiba's, eyes glued to the card. 'I tell you, boys, if there's one thing I hate about this war-'

'Apart from the fighting,' 'And the death,' 'And the lack of damned smokes', interrupted the others, respectively.

'Apart from those things, yeah,' continued Naruto, leaning back on the grey, unmade bed, 'If there's one thing I _hate _about this war, it's the lack of pretty girls to look at. The nurses are all right enough, but those skirts stretch all the way down to their damned ankles, and that big fat red cross plastered all across their chests doesn't help matters much, does it?'

At that moment, Nurse Ino stormed past, face set in a dismal, thunderous grimace of fury, growling something about a lack of gauze and tape in Prolonged Injury, blond hair swishing behind her like a horse's tail in summer heat. Naruto watched her as she charged on her way before returning his gaze back to the men stationed around Kiba's bed. 'You see my point?'

'Ino's not so bad,' Shikamaru drawled, shifting his chew-stalk to the other side of his mouth. 'Lets me off with a tonne of stuff. Monster temper, but nice enough when she's calmed down a touch.'

'You haven't seen Sakura out of her uniform,' chipped in Sasuke, taking the deck of cards from Kiba's hands and beginning to shuffle them. 'It's not as bad as you make out, Uzumaki.'

'And that little mouse nurse with the dark hair,' added Kiba enthusiastically, 'She'd be cute – real cute – if she'd just quit stuttering…'

'You're all nuts', grinned Naruto as he leaned over to receive his deal. 'Hey Sasuke, did I tell ya – rumour has it that _The Flash_ heard the explosions all the way in foggy old London! Neat, huh?'

The game began.

* * *

_9.30pm, 22__nd__ July, 1917, Messines, South East Ypres, Belgium_

He was annoyed. Again. It wasn't that Sasuke was _always _an angry person. He could be fairly mild, he thought, and even though he was dry, his wit was usually in good humour. He took care of the men in his platoon, made sure their life wasn't too hard where he could. He'd been out of his way once or twice to make sure they had it easy. He took orders well – S.M Kakashi had told him so (the quiet J.M Neji Hyuga didn't speak to him often) and did his job efficiently and quickly. Grapevine titter had it that if he kept up the good work he'd make Major in no time. There wasn't that much in the rather unlucky lot he'd drawn in life to be angry about. Misery, bitterness, sorrow, fatigue, and horror – they were emotions that were much more justifiable. But anger? Who was there to be angry at, deep down in the trenches, crawling along on your tender belly? The Fritz? Just soldiers, at the end of the day, just soldiers like himself. The Flash? Sat in his office, looking out for the country like he should do? He could hardly blame The Flash for the cold wetness of the mud or the cynical grey of the air piercing the world around them, and if The Flash could be spared, surely, _surely _he'd be here with them, limping through blood and grass and heavy rain by their sides. God? Perhaps, but God had kept him going this long, and the worst thing to happen to him was that a bit of shrapnel had lodged its way into his ankle. Circumstantially, he didn't have it as bad as it could be – and he made sure his men didn't have it badly either.

Anger, then, felt unfamiliar and hot in his chest as Sasuke strode along a muddy reserve trench, shouldering one or two of the younger privates aside quite roughly as his boots smacked through the mud. He scowled deeply and pulled up the next soldier he saw. 'Who the hell is in charge of this trench line?'

The soldier, grey eyes faltering in the falling rain, stuttered his answer as quickly as possible. 'Seventeenth, Sir. I'm under Captain Umino, but he's out on the front at the moment. I got held back because of a minor injury but I didn't know you--'

'The absence of your captain is no excuse for the state of this trench,' Sasuke growled to the young private. 'Get some duckboards laid out and clean up this filth.'

The soldier saluted sharply, his bony arm snapping to rapt attention. 'Sir!'

'You'll thank me,' muttered Sasuke as he turned away in the direction of his own dugout, 'when your feet are nice and dry and trench foot seems like nothing more than a nightmare.'

'Sir, yes sir!'

The dark haired captain, wet hair dripping into his eyes and down his dirty face, tramped away, feet sinking in the sopping mud at the floor of the trench. The rain had fallen for three days straight now, perforating the thick drab sky and peppering down into the trenches along the Messines ridge like a hail of incessant bullets. Sasuke had been hoping it would let up for his trip to the northernmost area of the trenches, as he'd been called in for a briefing with a couple of brass knuckles and Colonel Yamato about where they were going next. All the platoon leaders had been told to attend, but the dugout the brass had chosen to hold the meeting was far too small, and various captains and majors had been forced to wait outside while twenty or so platoon leaders were briefed at a time. Seventh platoon, Sasuke's own, and one of the most southerly platoons stationed upon the Messines ridge, had been one of the last to be briefed, and Sasuke had spent a good hour and a half shivering outside in the pissing down rain, trying and failing to light up a cigarette in the uncharacteristically chilly wind.

Surprisingly, when he'd gotten inside, he had been briefed not by Colonel Yamato, the genius behind the explosive attacks on the ridge, but by Brigadier Hiashi Hyuga (a distant relative, Sasuke knew, of J.M Neji's), who was a loud, stern man with eyes that held no sympathy for the dripping wet platoon leaders who had just entered the dugout. Still, even at that point, lips craving the taste of just one cigarette and water running down between his eyes, Sasuke wasn't really angry. Not quite yet.

It was the content of Hyuga's briefing that really angered him; that, and the Brigadier's complete ignorance of the concerns raised by himself and numerous others (including S.M Kakashi) during the fifteen minute brief. His voice was brash and authoritative and yet he possessed not the capability to listen to those who knew better. Thus Captain Uchiha, scowl refusing to melt away with the trickling water upon his face, left the largest northern dugout without shaking the Brigadier's hand or saluting and stormed into the pouring rain with a mind clouded, burning, and very, very angry. S.M Kakashi's calls were heard but irritably ignored as Sasuke began the hour long traipse back to Skinny, his own dugout at a tucked away edge of the Messines trench line.

It was past ten when he finally arrived at Skinny, his scowl nothing much more, to his platoon, than a miserable, soaking wet unhappiness dripping across his features. As he clambered in, pulling off his mud-soaked boots, the light from a dimly lit paraffin lamp swung in his direction, highlighting his sodden form and casting shadows on the damp woodboard walls behind him.

'Shit,' muttered Shikamaru, clambering from his bed _(Dugout beds were generally made of a quickly put-together wooden frame with a wire-mesh stretched across it. Soldiers were allocated a blanket) _and pulling his blanket with him. 'I didn't know you'd been up to the Front, Captain.'

'I haven't,' snapped Sasuke as he removed his helmet, 'I would have dragged you idiots up there with me if I had. Naruto, hand me some socks.'

Naruto, blond hair bouncing shadows in the light of the lamp he held, nodded and reached down into a small basket by the side of his bed. Soldiers were issued clean socks on a regular basis, and advised to change their socks at least three times a day as a preventative measure against trench foot. Nobody in Platoon Seven had yet suffered from any sort of infection of the foot, or mouth, or had even caught lice while they'd been living in Skinny. The dugout was as clean as it could be due to Sasuke's strict cleaning regime, which involved the dugout and the trench line it was on being cleaned once a day (conditions and circumstance allowing) and his order that all duckboards were to be properly maintained, allowing for a safe and clean walkway through the southern reserve trenches. Sasuke caught the grey socks and dragged his own sopping wet ones off as Kiba, ears fully healed now, piped up, throwing his blanket to Shikamaru (who promptly draped it over Sasuke's head).

'If you haven't been up on the Front, then what _have_ you been doing? You're a mess!'

'Briefing up on the Bluff,' Sasuke replied as Shikamaru began to rub his hair dry vigorously. It seemed excessive, but staying warm and dry, as well as maintaining the cleanliness of the dugout, was essential to keeping healthy in the trench. Dampness led to infection and the breeding of disease, and none of the soldiers would want their Captain to drag some sort of unpleasant illness into the dugout; partly because they all liked their Captain well enough and he _did_ do his best to look after them, and partly because they didn't want to catch anything themselves. _('The Bluff' – an area of land roughly four miles north of Messines, where Platoon Seven were based. although Platoon Seven were based at the northern end of the lines)_

Sasuke moved wearily to his bed and creaked down onto it, still rubbing himself dry with the blankets he had been bombarded with. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly wet envelope, handing it to Shikamaru. 'Mission statement, followed by the briefing. Enjoy.'

Shikamaru pulled open the envelope and Naruto and Kiba crowded about him to read over his shoulder.

'A four day bombardment?' Naruto read out loud in the dim light of the dugout. 'Just like before?'

Kiba read on. 'They want us to take the Gheluvelt Plain… as part of a greater mission to… take Passchendaele?' _(Pronounced: 'Pash-un-dale'. Region of Belgium northeast of Messines)_

Shikamaru continued to read silently, dark eyes skimming left and right in the shadows cast by the lamp. Sasuke watched him as he began to unbutton his wet shirt. Sleeping in wet clothes wasn't a good idea.

'We have a week, roughly,' he said as he searched around on his bed for a spare shirt. 'They're sending two battalions from the north of Messines up to Gheluvelt for an offensive. We are included in the first of those battalions. We'll be joining with one of many divisions stationed up in Gheluvelt while an ongoing bombardment of the German trenches is occurring. They want us to take the plain there. Once that objective is fulfilled, our battalions will be moving up to Pilckem Ridge in the hope of taking Langemark. This is expected to take approximately two months. We will be sent further orders from there, although I imagine by that time we'll be back on support or reserve again. They can't keep us up front for two months straight. We leave for the march up to Gheluvelt on the twenty-fifth of this month, and the bombardment ends on the thirtieth. Is that clear?'

Platoon Seven – the smallest platoon in the two divisions stationed along the Messines Ridge, nodded to their captain. Shikamaru said nothing. _(Some explanation is probably required about military numbers. A typical 'platoon' consists of thirty to fifty men, although they can be much smaller to fit particular purposes. Anything up to four platoons creates a 'company'. A 'battalion' is made up of five hundred to fifteen hundred men. A 'division' is made up of ten to twenty thousand soldiers. Several divisions form a 'corps'. Confusing, I know.)_ He folded the briefing notes back into the envelope and offered them back to Sasuke.

'Alright, lights out,' Shikamaru ordered quickly. 'Haruno wants a health inspection tomorrow at eight sharp.'

Kiba groaned. 'As if I haven't already seen enough of that broad.'

Naruto turned off the light quickly, head still reeling from the orders he had just received. The news that he would be moving, leaving the dugout he was so familiar with now, and going over the top in a completely new environment frightened him. He pulled his blanket up to his chin, curling, wondering at the sound of the rain falling into the entrance of Skinny. The noise of Kiba's snoring soon reached his ears as the darkness faded into a receding blackness. The slight warmth of his blanket lulled the thoughts in Naruto's mind into a rain-hissed slosh of colours and sounds that he tried not to listen to.

As he tried not to listen, he heard a conversation he probably shouldn't have. Hushed voices spilled across the dugout.

'It's suicide – absolutely. They've had time to regroup, recover. We don't even know the land there—'

'I know, Shikamaru, but what the hell can I do? There's a new guy in charge – all through the meeting Yamato was quiet as a mouse.'

'We can't just let them send us up and over like that – it'll be slaughter. Sir, with all due respect, you have to—'

'Have to what, Lieutenant? Throw my weight around at the higher ups? Refuse to go? Do you think I want to be shot?'

'No sir, but surely—'

'Surely nothing. A number of us tried to protest at the meeting, including Copycat. The Brigadier isn't interested, and Yamato doesn't have a say.'

There was the sound of material being thrust against skin.

'Sir, this is wet.'

'That's the least of your problems now, Shikamaru. I need you to _think_.'

'Think, sir?'

'When we get up there, take a look at the area, look at the men we're with, look at the weapons, the weather – everything. Cover everything you can possibly think of. If we go over the top with nothing but a rifle and bayonet we're done for. You're the resident strategist, and this platoon needs your help to stay alive. Every new field we come to, every new trench we fall into, I want you planning, using that head of yours to keep us safe. You hear me?'

'Sir, I think you give me too much credit—'

'Shikamaru, I don't need you to be coy. I need you to take the order. I can't carry us through this on my own.'

There was a silence, interspersed by the hammering of the summer rain outside. Naruto hardly dared breathe as the words of the conversation he had accidentally fallen into ricoched about the inside of his skull. _'Suicide' 'We're done for' 'Keep us safe'_

'Don't think I'm not angry, Nara,' Sasuke's voice could hardly be heard over the rain. 'This wouldn't be half so bad if they'd attacked straight away. We did a damn good job of scaring those squareheads half to death with those explosions, and took out a nice chunk of their forces to boot. Yet they've been given a month – _a month!_ – to sort themselves out, to drag more forces up from that pit of a country they live in, to make a plan of their own. We lost our advantage – and what's worse?! We're throwing a _bombardment_ at them. They're going to start realising that whenever we want to launch a surprise attack, we bombard them first. They'll be ready for us. We're going to walk right into their machine guns and that's it.' _('Machine guns' – the German army made much more use of the newly invented machine gun in world war one than the British did, as the British generals believed the weapon to be 'unsporting'.)_

Another silence, and this time no words could shake and rattle in Naruto's head. He was too stunned by what he'd heard. Sasuke, soaking wet and ignored, had cut right through the Brigadier's fancy lingo and devilishly sweet sounding plan and pointed out the details that made it a mass suicide. His fists clenched, and his blue eyes, the colour of the bottom of the ocean in the darkness, narrowed as he thought of the idiotic brass and their clueless nature.

_'Is that what you want, Flash?' _he thought dismally, the distorted image of their Field Marshall behind his thick oak desk falling into his mind. _'You want us to die for nothing?'_

'I'll do my best, sir,' came Shikamaru's soft reply. 'That's all I can promise.'

'That's all we need,' answered Sasuke, shifting on his creaky mattress as Naruto's heart pounded. 'That and a little luck.'

* * *

**Sherby**: There you go, fellow World-War-One-lovers like myself! Chapter Three! Please, please, PLEASE drop me a nice little bit of love in the form of a review!

Also, I did recently acquire a beta reader for this story, whose name is Narni4eva. I didn't ask Narni to beta this chapter, as I decided I have made you readers wait long enough, but I shall be asking in future. I apologise if there are a million mistakes in this thing! Thank you to Narni though for the encouraging appraisal of the story, and I am looking forward to working with you! I'll send you the fourth chapter very soon!

Sherby xxx


	4. Between the Idea and the Reality

**Sherby: Thanks to Narni for the beta-ing! I have never had a beta before and it feels, frankly, a little bit special. **

**Enjoy chapter four – author's notes appear **_**(like this in fun little italicised brackets)**_**, as I decided footnotes were mean. **

**Drop me a review, please! **_**(Chapter title is taken from T.S Eliot's 'Hollow Men'. There are some references to it throughout the chapter.)**_

**Sherby**

ps Hello Sara.

* * *

_**One**_

_**Chapter Four – Between the Idea and the Reality**_

_dark_

_i am dead, lying watching lying beneath lying still cold and the sound of the _

_a hollow man stuffed with mud_

_rain upon the wood_

_dark and wet the rain the sound of the rain upon the wood_

_i was warm warmer than this but now the wet makes me cold_

_footfalls above me fall fall no words for this mud_

_thine is the kingdom_

_i only slipped i only fell just sank now choke on the brown_

_i can see them above me, above running over, helmets slung on backward_

_yellow cloud yellow cloud run through it run through between the essence and the descent falls the shadow between the_

_because thine is the kingd--_

_captain do you hear me of course i can't how can i hear through the mud? _

_how can you hear through the mud? only days ago only days they were all alright dog boy and the idiot and the captain of course captain can you hear me?_

_that's right you can't hear through the blood falls the shadow_

_i shall grow up through the fields grow up through the grass in a _

_million years and there i shall be again no mud to drown my voice you shall see me then _

_me and my mind me and my _

_promises _

_lips form prayer to broken stone_

_i am far too young to die here i hope you reach in and find me i hope your hand hears me i hope_

_i hope_

_i hope_

_your hand for thine_

_for thine_

_i hope_

_oh god_

_i_

* * *

_8.07am, 23__rd__ July, 1917, Messines, South East Ypres, Belgium_

Shikamaru stifled a yawn by breathing in the damp air around him. He didn't really mind getting up so early; the light of the dawning sun, dulled by the grey smoke that blanketed the entirety of Belgium, it seemed, invaded the safe haven of Skinny as early as six, and so he was usually awake by the time the order came to clamber out of bed (unlike Naruto and Kiba, who, a year younger than himself and the Captain, seemed to enjoy their sleep far more and protested rigorously every single morning as Sasuke attempted to drag them from their beds. Soldiers, indeed!). Today, however, the Lieutenant had found throwing the blanket off particularly difficult due to both the sound and smell of the rain pattering weakly on the duckboards outside the dugout, and the fact that he had gotten very little sleep at all throughout the darkness of night. The words crammed into his head were just too _loud_; words he'd read on the mission briefing hours before that simply refused to be swept under the black slumber-rug. He hadn't tossed, or turned (that was more his Captain's style, who, Shikamaru had gathered from the near constant shifting and irritated sighing, hadn't seemed to get a wink of sleep either), but had simply lain awake, thoughts and strategies and worries dancing between the sound of the raindrops in his ears as he stared at the planked roof of the dugout. The snatched moments of half-sleep he fell into were plagued with dreams he didn't quite understand, and he was almost glad when another shift of Sasuke's mattress yanked him back out of them and into reality once more. Grey dawn had made its unwelcome appearance, arching through the twisted rain and casting silvery hissing shadows into the dugout, throwing watery patterns onto the walls. If he hadn't been able to taste the hot air of the morning Shikamaru would have guessed that he was underwater.

He had struggled out of bed a little wearily at a quarter to eight, taking note of his Captain's tired appearance as he went through his routine of yanking the covers off and repeatedly kicking the younger two members of his small platoon. He seemed to have a little less patience than normal when dealing with the slumbering soldiers (_'not,' _thought Shikamaru, _'that he has a lot on a good day…'_) and quickly resorted to filling his helmet with rainwater from the entrance to the dugout and splashing it over Kiba and Naruto. Shikamaru didn't think he'd ever seen them move so fast.

They'd made their way to the Clearing Station a little later than they should have, and so the small squad of nurses that they were familiar with were busy attending to another, slightly larger platoon of soldiers who had also been called in for a quick check-up before mission start (they were due to begin a march up to Gheluvelt on the twenty-fifth, with the possibility of truck transport if the weather was too bad). Platoon Seven (Second-lieutenant Shino joined them from his own dugout) waited fairly quietly for the nurses to finish with the other platoon, and this is how Shikamaru found himself suppressing a sleepy yawn at ten-past-eight in the morning, his belly empty and his mind full.

'This rain is depressing,' offered Naruto, his words a tad slurry with the remnants of a deep sleep. 'I was dreaming of a hot, sandy beach, and I was lying there, in the sand, and the sun was just falling down on me…'

'Quiet down, Naruto,' Kiba scowled wishfully. 'Keep that sort of talk for darker times.'

Shikamaru snorted to himself and chewed a little harder on his grass stalk. One day he was quite sure Naruto would find a good use for those dreams; those different places in his mind, where he could take a short holiday away from the grey rain of the trenches and enjoy a life of peace and laziness, but until the proper time came there were more important matters to be attended to. Daydreaming was for the man lying on the field, skewered with a bayonet and bleeding into the grass; for the man snipping the barbed wire under cover of mist and darkness; for the man watching a friend drown under a sea of hazy poison _(Poison gas was used by enemy forces from the start of the war, although the gases initially used were mainly chlorine and phosgene, with limited effectiveness. Mustard gas attacks were tried and tested on the fields of Belgium in 1917…)_. In Shikamaru's mind – and in Kiba's too, it seemed – Naruto should save his pleasant daydreams for a time when he really needed them, and not run the risk of using them all up.

He was woken from his musings (hadn't he just told Naruto off for daydreaming?) by Nurse Ino, who beckoned the small, sleepy-looking platoon over to her. Nurse Hinata (Naruto had asked her for her name during the poker night some weeks ago, and she had relinquished it somewhat nervously, blushing) smiled shyly at them as they moved a little further into the medical station.

'You know the routine, boys,' Ino said briskly, brushing down her creamy pinafore. 'Strip.'

With a sigh, and wondering whether Naruto's nice warm beach fantasy was still available for access, Shikamaru reluctantly stripped to his boxers. The weather wasn't particularly cold, but the rain outside made the prospect of stripping to one's underwear a little daunting. Still, it was a necessary evil, and Shikamaru quickly took a seat in a nearby brown wooden chair, hoping to get things over with as swiftly as possible.

Nurse Hinata got to work on Naruto, who, despite the ashen weather, always managed to retain a healthy-looking tan, while Ino began examining Shikamaru. Each of them was armed with a small, fine-toothed comb designed primarily for the searching and chasing out of lice _(one of the most common problems amongst men in the trenches)_. Sasuke, Shino and Kiba waited nearby, feeling slightly undignified, as the two nurses searched the boys all over.

'Found one, Lieutenant Nara!' smiled Ino. Shikamaru scowled as she pulled a fairly substantially-sized louse from his nape. 'Dirty little bastards…' he muttered, still chewing on his stalk.

Nurse Sakura chose that moment to arrive, uniform as smart and pressed as always, eyes bright against the morning dullness. She approached the waiting platoon quietly, watching her younger nurses work.

'Kiba, Shino,' she said with a smile, 'The other nurses will get to you in a moment. Captain,' at this she glanced up at the lanky Sasuke, 'a word.'

Kiba watched as Sasuke, pale skin stretched over his long body, followed the petite nurse to a quiet corner of the station. Content to attempt to lip-read from his current position and quite confident that his ears had returned to their sharp old selves, he settled down to watch as he waited for his own check up.

* * *

'You can't be serious.'

Not really in the mood for any of this and particularly irritable due to a lack of sleep, Sasuke grimaced as Sakura's inquisition began. How on earth she knew of the mission his platoon had been assigned he did not know. All that was currently clear to him was that she was just as angry and upset about the new mission as he was, but she was more prepared to voice her opinions about it. He felt vaguely unprepared for a fast-paced discussion with the woman – possibly, he noted, because he was standing there in just his boxers.

'Do I have to do this minus the uniform?'

Sakura growled, eyes flashing, and quickly pulled over a rickety chair. 'Sit, Captain.'

With a sigh, Sasuke took a seat. The downside of the situation was that he was semi naked and mildly self-conscious, in the hands of the woman with the fieriest temper he had ever encountered, being checked for lice and other hygienic malfunctions, with no breakfast in his belly, and his cigarettes lying out of reach in the pocket of his crumpled up jacket on the floor.

The upside was that Sakura had the gentlest hands he had ever felt. Not soft, nor smooth. Just gentle.

He wasn't given much leave to muse over this pleasantry, since Sakura spoke as she searched, her voice eager and a little desperate as her gentle fingers ran through Sasuke's thick, probably very dirty hair.

'Can't you talk them out of it? Surely they'll listen to you!'

'What gave you that idea?' He tried not to pay attention to her calloused fingers as they moved along his scalp in a way she probably didn't realise was relaxing.

'Well, you're a captain, Captain. You have experience, and so does Copycat! How can they afford not to listen to you?' He definitely heard it that time, seeping into her voice; desperation.

'Sakura, the man in charge of this operation is a Brigadier. That's a whole five ranks above myself, and three above Kakashi. He has no obligation to listen to us, no matter how stupid he may be.'

'That can't be true,' her fingers tightened. 'He can't just ignore the wisdom of battle-versed men for the sake of his own medals—'

'Yes he can.' Sasuke reached up and caught her hand – she was gripping his hair too tight and was pulling a little hard on his scalp. He looked up at her from his chair, and to his vision she appeared upside-down. 'He can do whatever the hell he wants. He's a Brigadier, Sakura.'

From his angle, he could see the pretty curve of her jaw as it met her neck. Her face was heart shaped and rosy. He could see the way her eyes glimmered with the desperation that had seeped into her words. Moments like these made him wonder how life would be if they'd met in another time; another world.

'Yamato,' she said, breaking off from chewing on her lip, pulling her hands back into his hair. 'Colonel Yamato. Can't he…?'

'Quiet as your mousey nurse during the mission briefing,' Sasuke said with a bitter half-scowl, recalling the genius that was Yamato and his silent, almost subdued demeanour the night before. 'Even he hasn't got a chance.'

Done with his hair, Sakura moved around to Sasuke's front, kneeling down and checking up and down his leg hair for lice. Now righted in his vision, he watched her as she worked silently, her face deep in concentration and not betraying the fact that her mind was elsewhere.

'There's no point worrying,' he started after the silence became a little too unusual – this was Sakura, for goodness' sake – and he didn't like the way his voice came out. 'We're following orders. You know I'll do my best to bring the boys back.'

Green eyes fixated on his own. She was upset. He could still remember well enough to read unhappiness in a woman's eyes. It shone a little harder than tears did.

'This ankle has healed up well,' she said, eyes falling down to his right foot, where the purplish blue scar of an old wound remained. 'Does it cause you any pain?'

He sighed. 'No.'

'Any other ailments you can think of? Coughs, colds, shivers, fevers, aches?'

'None.'

'How's the hearing?'

'What?'

'How's the-- you're a regular funny man, Captain.'

The joke was out of character for him. She drew out the smiles that he buried – had to bury – deep under the trenches, under the smells and the sights and the sheer greyness of the sky. In his worry about the upcoming days, Sasuke had forgotten he was capable of making a joke.

She smiled at him, a little wonkily, to show her mild displeasure at such a terrible joke. But she meant it. Her eyes slipped into that happy look she wore when she forgot where she was for a moment. He could see the moment that she remembered herself again; the vibrant colour of her eyes seemed to waver or fade in conjunction with the thought that resettled itself in the dust of her mind. Her smile disappeared.

'Look, Captain…'

'You don't have to always call me Captain,'

'Can you make me a promise?'

'Depends what it is.'

She chewed her lip thoughtfully again, still gazing up at him in a manner he wasn't accustomed to. The Sakura he knew was never this serious. Even when he'd limped into the clearing station a few months ago, foot feeling as though it was obliterated with shrapnel from an exploding shell, she'd been all jokes and tellings off and never, not once, had she looked at him with the eyes she looked at him with today. He couldn't quite place it, or describe it, except to say that he felt almost as though he had been shot. Not the pain – her gaze caused him no hurt – but more the feeling of being occupied, invaded; not his own anymore. This Sakura was quite different from the one who confiscated his cigarettes or smacked him lightly on the head for spitting. Sakura before him was a girl – neither nurse nor woman – frightened of losing the familiarity of the world around her. He knew the question before it was asked.

'Can you promise me you'll come back?'

Sasuke stared at her, hard, and she met his eyes as bravely as she could. He had to search for his own courage in order to answer the girl kneeling before him whose nursing pinafore suddenly looked a lot too big for her. How old was she again?

'You know that I can't promise you that, Haruno,'

'Why not?!' her reaction didn't surprise him, but the volume of it did, and he instantly pulled back into the chair, wincing. 'You're going to just _die_ out there, Sasuke? Is that it? Throw your life away because you're too scared to stand up for it?'

He wanted a cigarette. _Needed_ a cigarette.

'I won't think any better of you for trying to be a hero, Captain,' Sakura muttered, tears clearly visible in her eyes now as she glared down at the planked floor. 'The days of heroes are dead. All that's left is pointlessness.'

He hated her, just for a moment. Just as she brought out his smiles moments before, now she was deep in his heart, wrenching out the thoughts he'd never say within earshot of his platoon; he'd probably never say them out loud at all, just for fear he might actually start believing them and _then_ where would he be?

'_The days of heroes are dead… pointlessness…heroes are dead…'_

He pushed himself up out of the chair, gentle hands quickly forgotten, lost in heated words and the exhumation of memories long ago buried. He marched over to his clothes – nearby, Kiba was just sitting down to be examined and Naruto was complaining at Nurse Hinata finding six ('Y-yes, six, Sir,') lice on his person – and pulled his trousers on quickly, aware that it was increasingly difficult to make an impressive exit when clothed only in boxer shorts. Sakura, having wiped any tears away from her eyes, approached him.

'Where are you going? I'm not done yet!'

'I'm going,' he hissed as he picked up his shirt and jacket in an ungracious bundle, fumbling a little distractedly at his cigarette pocket and ignoring the stares his platoon were shooting at him, 'for a _smoke_. God knows I need one.'

* * *

_7.28pm, 24th July, 1917, Messines, South East Ypres, Belgium_

Naruto was angsty. And couldn't stop fidgeting. He'd cleaned his boots twice, polished his helmet, played seven rounds of poker with Kiba (who seemed just as fidgety) and played a game of eye-spy with Lieutenant Nara that lasted just over half an hour (the result, which Naruto failed to grasp, was that Shikamaru's 'something beginning with "r"' had been 'rain', and Naruto hadn't realised that things outside the dugout were counted in the game too). The Captain was out at a final pre-mission briefing and so Shikamaru was head of Skinny for now, but an overriding quiet had fallen over the dugout as each of the soldiers contemplated the six o'clock rise in the morning and the events that may follow.

It was times like these, Kiba noted, where a vivid imagination turned out to be a bad thing. Unlike Naruto's fantastical golden beach, lathered with sun and joy and ease, Kiba's fantasies took a different turn the night before a mission – and he was sure he was not dissimilar to most soldiers in that respect. Every wrong move he could make, and every possible consequence of each wrong move, flooded his mind as though eager to hold him back and rein him in – to stop him from going. He knew, by now, that this was a basic survival technique on the part of his own body, and he knew it would all be easier when he was actually on the move, where his body could release a little of the thought-tension that was building up in his stiff muscles. Until then he was destined to be plagued with images of himself prone amongst the grass and mud and others, wound scarlet and bleeding into the night. Sometimes he thought that this was the worst part. Experience told him that the imagination of the reality was _not_ the worst part. The worst part was the reality itself.

But he could face that when it came. What was that saying about crossing bridges?

Sitting on his stiff, uncomfortable bed, Naruto dealt himself another round of Patience _(modern day 'Solitaire')_. He was never really sure he was playing it right, as he never seemed to be able to reorder the cards like he was supposed to, but it distracted him from the silence in the dugout and the rain outside it. Kiba had told him off for letting his imagination get the better of him and so he decided to focus on a problem, flicking the cards this way and that and watching them with a puzzled look in his bright blue eyes. _'Too hard,_' he thought solemnly as the woman on the nine of hearts smiled back at him. _'This is just too hard for me'_.

'Here.' A hand reached over and moved the nine onto a black ten that Naruto's gaze had missed. 'The trick is to read each card, and not just gloss over them like you were doing.'

As Naruto watched, Shikamaru went on to complete a suit in around a minute.

'No wonder the Captain relies on you so much, Shikamaru.' Naruto's voice sounded awed. 'I've never seen someone think so quickly.'

'I didn't think any more quickly than you do, kid,' Shikamaru's face looked a little downcast. 'I just focus harder.'

Naruto smiled at him, wondering why the Lieutenant's face had fallen. 'Whatever it is you do, Sir, keep doing it! It's amazing!'

A growl from Kiba interrupted whatever Shikamaru had planned to say next. 'Can you keep it down, Naruto? I'm trying to clean my rifle and I'll be damned if your rambling is helping me concentrate! Do you want me to shoot myself in the foot?'

Naruto looked sheepish, and made to apologise, but Shikamaru spoke quickly, a smirk finding its way across his face. 'Come on, Kiba. Who cleans a loaded gun?'

Private Inuzuka grumbled something about Shikamaru being too smart for his own good, while Naruto chuckled quietly at Shikamaru's rolling eyes.

'He's always like this before a mission,' grinned the Lieutenant, well aware that Kiba could hear him. 'As irritable as the Captain, but just not quite as smart.'

* * *

_8.45pm, 24th July, 1917, Messines, South East Ypres, Belgium_

Another pointless meeting.

Captain Uchiha trudged home wearily once more from the Bluff, where a last minute preparations meeting had been called. Again, Brigadier Hyuga had dominated the meeting in entirety, and while Senior Major Kakashi had (to Sasuke's surprise) attempted to voice some concerns over the feasibility of the mission and the structure of the attack waves, his voiced had been silenced by such words as 'insolence' and 'mutinous'. Sasuke knew that Copycat hadn't been trying to be mutinous. Everybody did – even, it seemed likely, Brigadier Hyuga. But the Brigadier wanted his plan to go ahead and so the voice of reason was plainly drowned out by aristocracy and the jangle of future honours. Sasuke hadn't mentioned to the soldiers in his platoon that Hyuga had been working under Lieutenant-General Haig during the disastrous attack on the Somme a year ago. It lowered his own spirits to even think about it.

And the Yanks still hadn't arrived.

After a quick briefing from weapons master Tenten (Sasuke still had no idea how a woman had managed to rank as anything but a nurse, but she seemed to be good at her job, so who was he to complain?), Sasuke began the long walk home, accompanied for a short way by Kakashi and Neji. They walked in silence, engulfed in the smoke of Sasuke's cigarette. Kakashi did not complain about it.

The S.M and J.M had branched off at their respective trenches with quick sharp salutes, and Sasuke had taken the rest of the walk slowly. Despite the light rain and the conditions growing steadily muddier, he wanted some time away from his platoon to think. The taste of his cigarettes did little to comfort him as it once had, and it certainly was not strong enough to chase away the many worries that troubled his mind. Taking small pleasure in the fact that the muddy trench that he had walked through the other day had been completely cleaned (that soldier had done his job well), Sasuke eventually found a firestep to sit on and rested, elbows digging into his knees.

Sasuke had departed for the front lines four times previously to this, and never had he felt more as though he were walking right into his own doom. It was a feeling that unsettled him not because he was frightened, but because he couldn't forget Sakura's words from yesterday. _'Pointless'_, she'd called his possible (probable?) death. Un-heroic. A waste. With a sigh, he lowered his face into his hands, careful not to burn himself on his cigarette, and closed his eyes.

'Well don't you look peaceful?'

He opened one eye, but didn't really need to. He knew she would have tracked him down before he left; she was too nice a person to let him walk into battle with their argument on his shoulders. There stood Sakura, hair clipped back into some form of cute bun, wearing her slack off-duty shirt and a calf length skirt. She offered him a smile.

'Why're you out so late? You have a mission in the morning – I thought you'd need an early night.'

He opened his other eye and realised she was getting wet just talking to him. She'd gone to a lot of trouble, even if he thought it wasn't worth it. 'I can never sleep before a mission.'

'Oh, now that's silly,' she smiled even more brightly. 'Budge up! I'd like to sit with you.'

Sasuke couldn't decide if he moved reluctantly or willingly, but before he knew it she was sitting next to him on the firestep, feet planted firmly on the ground. It was a squash, and Sasuke, his bottom half on and half off the step, reached for another cigarette as the rain began to fall a little lighter.

Sakura watched him slip the Lucky Strike into his mouth and fumble around with a match for a moment before lighting the end. He leaned back, breathing in deeply, and closed his eyes.

'May I try one?'

Sasuke scoffed, cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. 'Girls don't smoke.'

With a smirk, Sakura leaned forward. 'Oh really…'

Before he knew it Sasuke was minus a cigarette – the one in his mouth, to be particular. He snapped up, confused, before he realised that his cigarette was being held hostage in the rose lips of Sakura, who seemed to smoke it like a pro, inhaling when she should and exhaling what she should. A cloud of smoke wrapped around his face.

'I can't see why you like these things. It tastes disgusting!'

Sasuke frowned, the smoke stinging his eyes for a moment. 'Then give it back.'

'I don't think so,' the playful nurse said, the cigarette moving up and down in her lips as she spoke. 'I want to smoke the whole thing. See what it's like.'

Defeated, Sasuke relaxed back again as Sakura breathed in the taste of his cigarette. The rain was light and quite cool in the humid air of the Belgian summer. Sasuke didn't really understand why it was raining so much. Perhaps it was a by-product of all the smoke and rubbish their machines were sending into the sky.

Before he could reach into his pocket and pull out another Lucky Strike, Sakura grabbed his wrist sharply. He frowned as she spoke, throat craving the burn that had been stolen from him.

'Why couldn't you make that promise, Captain?'

Her hair was wet. It clung to her face in reddish pink ribbons. The rain fell into the sea of her eyes.

'Because,' answered Sasuke quietly, not really wanting to look at her heart face, 'I don't like to make promises that I'm not sure I can keep.'

The woman beside him exhaled heavily, smoke billowing from her parted lips. 'I suppose that's fair, but if you made me the promise then you'd be more inclined to keep it.'

It was mildly erotic, he couldn't deny it. There she sat, drenched to the bone, rainwater running down her pale skin (almost as pale as his own) while her lips flared, fitted provocatively around the stick of the Lucky Strike, he beside her, soaked through, pushed together on the tiny firestep as she (albeit somewhat confusingly) confessed that she didn't really want him to leave. Sasuke had never been one for idealistic stories, and life on the field had dissolved any dream or ideas he ever may have harboured for such a notion. Life was no fairytale _('The days of heroes are dead') _and he knew now that he had to answer her in a way that would break any romantic illusions she may have of him returning to her as a brave prince in shining armour.

'When you're out there, Sakura, life isn't something that you can control, and neither is death. Fate wouldn't listen to some promise I made to a pretty girl. It would laugh at it.'

Sakura smiled weakly at him, eyes crinkling a little at the corners. She had found, of late, that she could read him like a book, regardless of the fine sheets of rain parting them moment by moment.

'Why is it, Sasuke,' she ventured, 'that you were so angry when I told you I don't believe heroes exist anymore?'

His face blended perfectly with the rain, almost melted into it, a shadow merging into the black of night. And as she watched, he remembered what he had never really tried to forget.

_i am far too young to die here i hope you reach in and find me i hope your hand hears me i hope_

_i hope_

_i hope_

_your hand for thine_

_for thine_

_i hope_

_oh god_

_i_

_a hand reaches in grasps mine pulls jerks i am coming out i am coming out i came_

_i will not die here_

_he is saving me the hope of an empty man_

_there is air on my tongue _

_mud on my face air on my tongue sky grey sky in my eyes fumbling hands grass oh god grass and not a lost violent soul_

_a bullet through his stomach he bleeds into the grass black eyes dying_

_your hand _

_i hope_

_oh god_

_i_

_this is the way the world ends_

'The days of heroes are _not_ dead and gone,' he answered firmly, eyes cloudy and unfocused. 'No matter what you say. Someone died for me, not all that long ago. It's something I try not to think about too often, but that man's death was not worthless, or pointless, or anything other than heroic. Because he died, I am here. Doesn't that make him a hero?'

Sakura watched him quietly. 'Yes.'

'Then if I die out there, saving one of my men, making sure they can be here too, then what would that make me?'

She didn't respond, and he took her hand roughly, incapable of her gentleness as the memory lingered fresh and wet in his mind.

'If I made that promise to you, then it would make me a liar.'

She nodded now, eyes loaded with more than the reflection of the rain. The firestep was uncomfortable, and darkness began to curl around the edges of the dull horizon.

'What would you have me put first?' he asked her quietly, shifting a little on the step. 'My men, or my promise?'

Her eyes were downcast. She looked ashamed of what she had asked him to do, ashamed that she may have inadvertently pleaded with him to throw away his men's lives in return for his own. She was ashamed she had put her heart before reality.

'I'll promise you one thing, though…'

She glanced at him, a little teary, watching shadows creep up from the floor and stretch onto his white skin. Her voice was soft and trembled with raw tenderness. 'What can you promise me, Captain?'

He smiled – actually smiled, all the way – a childish, white toothed smile that reminded her of Christmas day, better times, souls that were not so crushed by the claustrophobic muddy walls of the world around them. When he spoke, her shoulders seemed a little less tight and the rain a little less damaging.

'I'll try my best.'

* * *

Dawn found them too quickly. Platoon Seven awoke early, none having enjoyed very much sleep. Shikamaru had noted the Captain's empty bed, but assumed he'd be sitting in the rain somewhere, thinking, until the mission began. He strode in, fully dressed, as the dull grey light cast its watery shadows on the walls of the dugout once again, and Shikamaru had nothing more to think about it.

The Lieutenant would never imagine that Captain Uchiha had spent the night sat on a wet, uncomfortable firestep, hand in hand with a pretty nurse. And he certainly would never guess that his Captain had been blessed with one of the most blissful nights of sleep he could remember.

* * *

**Sherby: To be continued…**

**Yes, I know, a bit of fluffy goodness. You all love it. Next chapter the mission begins for real, and we get back to reality. In a world at war, none of this love stuff can last forever… can it? **

**Gotta love 'The Hollow Men', by the way. One of my favourite poems, and very appropriate here, I believe.**

**Drop me a review pals! I shall love you forever if you do! On a serious note, this story has received over one hundred hits, and only four reviews – one of these was from my boyfriend, and one of these was from a housemate who I bribed. So two legitimate reviews, and these are from the same person. Come on guys – this is cruel. Please, all I ask is a little feedback to let me know where YOU would like me to take this thing. Thanks! Sherby**


	5. Flight

**Sherby: Welcome to chapter five, folks. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers – my particular thanks this week go to Oil Pastel, who offered me some invaluable advice, and then got absolutely rat-arsed. Well done! **

**NOTE: This chapter is, as of yet, unbetaed, as I have been without internet for a number of days and felt that I have already kept this chapter from you readers for long enough. However, the wonderful and beautiful Narni will be receiving this chapter in order to beta it, and I shall replace this horrible unbetaed version with the betaed version ASAP! Sorry for any terrible mistakes – my awesome beta shall eradicate them! (Thanks Narni – sorry about the wait!) I'm using the net at my boyfriend's house to even upload this – but the next chapter will not be long! Have no fear!!**

**Enjoy chapter five, and keep up that reviewing, folks! You guys made me so happy with all your reviews for the last chapter!**

**(Brief author's note – It may be worth, when you arrive at 3.14 in the morning, to play the song 'Hyakkaryouran – Talents Emerge!' from the Naruto Shippuuden soundtrack. I played it on repeat while I wrote the last section of the chapter and felt it summed up our little genius quite nicely)**

**(Another brief note: I often refer to land as 'Allied'. The term 'Allied' refers to mainly English, French, Russian, and American powers, or the 'Allied Powers' – these countries were pitted against mainly Germany and what was then Austria-Hungary, who were referred to as the 'Central Powers') **

* * *

_**One**_

_**Chapter Five – Flight**_

_Night-time _

Under cover of the wet dark, a brave soldier, uniform clinging tightly due to rain, to heat, to fear, clambers into the back of a supply truck and shields themselves from prying eyes with a simple tarpaulin. As the truck rumbles into life, they peer from the back, and watch the shadow-lit trenches disappear into hazy blackness.

* * *

_9.17pm, 26th July 1917, Sanctuary Wood, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

_: Mission brief: Battalions twelve and thirteen to join Fourth Regiment at Gheluvelt by 28__th__ July in order to take Gheluvelt Plain; bombardment of enemy lines cease 11.58 hours 30__th__ July, Fourth Regiment offensive begin 04.00 hours 31__st__ July :_

A direct march from the Bluff, the most northern point of the trenches lying along the Messines Ridge, up to Gheluvelt was roughly five miles, but due to enemy trench lines lying deep in the heart of eastern Ypres, the two battalions from the north of Messines were forced to take an entirely round-about route. The weather was hard; hot, sickly rain that refused to let up after almost a week of pounding the earth into a muddy nothingness, impregnating the soil and transforming it into a deceptive mass of marshland. Thus, with the straight path blocked and the ground a labyrinth of treacherous swamp, the two battalions, walking-weary and tired of the rain, had found themselves travelling west through allied territories of Verbrandenmolen and Zillebeke before arriving on the western edge of Sanctuary Wood, an area of thick greenery and tree life yet to be affected by the heavy shelling and destruction about it, roughly a mile west of Gheluvelt. Pitching crudely put-together tents in the mud was no easy task for two-thousand men with blistered feet and skin that shivered despite the shirt, the jacket, and the hot air of the woodland. Kakashi found himself staring across the jail-cell shadows cast by the trees and simply watching the scene before him with drowsy admiration. Despite the rain, despite the mud and the walking, despite the conditions and the tiredness in their muscles, all of the soldiers in the two platoons he oversaw were relatively cheerful and in good spirits. Further up the lines there had been hushed talk of terrible conditions, complaints about heavy loads, bitterness at the rain, but his own men hammered their tent pegs firmly into the mud (as firmly as they could, at any rate) with a solid and chipper determination as a lark in a nearby tree sang valiantly in spite of the weather and the heat.

Platoon Seven had trailed along at the back of the lines, Captain Uchiha insisting that he wasn't about to rush his men in the fairly dangerous conditions ('Slowly and steadily wins the race, Copycat, not quickly and "oops my foot slipped and now I'm drowning in the mud"…'). In front of them was his other platoon (Platoon Three), supervised by Junior Major Neji Hyuga and led by Captain Genma Shiranui. The platoon, another unusually small one (Kakashi wondered why platoon sizes were dropping so drastically of late), consisted of a fat, merry soldier named Chouji, an enthusiastic young man named Lee, and Lieutenant Sai, a quiet, pasty young man who spent much of his free time in his dugout illustrating the poems he threw together. Second Lieutenant Shino ('Bugboy' to those who knew how often he had hobbled to the medical station begging them to relieve him of the lice in his short - and seemingly hospitable - hair) played an active duty in both platoons, moving from one to the other when it was decided where he would be needed. Indeed, he had been a permanent part of Platoon Seven until Naruto had joined them, and, not quite willing to hand him over completely, both Sasuke and his Lieutenant had pleaded to Kakashi for the company of Shino at some times. The arrangement worked out well enough, and a healthy competitive streak ran through the two squads.

'How're those tents coming along, ladies?' Kakashi watched Captain Genma, never without a grass stalk in his mouth to chew, taunt the nearby Kiba and Naruto, who were struggling with a particularly stubborn corner of their tent and a similarly stubborn patch of ground. 'Looks like you'd be better sleeping under a tree than under that thing – you might get a little wetter, but at least a tree won't just collapse on you in the middle of the night!'

'Oh, look at that,' countered Kiba, face twisted up as he tried his best to ram the peg in his hands deeper into the soil, 'There's a tree right there in the woods – a whole bunch of them, in fact! Maybe _you _should try sleeping under them, Genma – I've heard trees are _really safe_ during thunderstorms.'

Genma chuckled in good nature, his lazy-looking eyes crinkling, and Lee appeared behind him with a sharp salute. 'Sir, Captain Genma Sir! The tent is now secure and ready to accommodate! Shall I set up a fire and begin heating up some food?'

Kakashi smiled as Naruto raised an eyebrow at the overly zealous Lee. His uniform sparkled (when – and where – had he washed it?) and not a hair fell out of place in his typical military buzz cut. 'Lick boot much, Fuzzy brows?'

Indeed, his eyebrows were unusually dark and thick, but Lee looked confused. 'My brows are not Fuzzy, Private Naruto, but well maintained, and clean of lice, I can assure you!'

'Wrap it up, guys,' Shikamaru quickly intervened from the other end of the tent. He stood and brushed his hands off. 'Lee's right. It's time to eat.'

Kakashi's stomach agreed but he chose to remain where he was, stationed quietly against the trunk of a slim, damp tree, and took out a weathered old book from his back pocket. He kept an eye on his men.

Naruto and Kiba drove the last peg into the ground with some force, and the two platoons split for the time being, the men entering into their respective tents to escape the rain momentarily and to pick up their rations (delivered in the form of food parcels about an hour ago). Even when on the move, they were generally kept well fed and looked after, despite their complaints that the quality of the food was less than satisfactory.

Kiba rustled around in his belongings, shifting one of his two gasmasks to the side before tugging on a large square packet. 'Help me get this outside, will you Naruto?' he asked of the blond, who was retying one of his wet boot laces. 'It's pretty heavy.'

The two soldiers moved back out into the rain, carrying the parcel between them and pausing for a moment to search for Shikamaru and Sasuke. A couple of metres away, through the reddish darkness that was starting to fall, they could hear Chouji complaining that Sai couldn't get the fire to start. Genma was muttering to them about using the matches and the response he received from his men was negative. 'We can't find them, sir!' Kakashi, still engrossed in his book, suppressed a chuckle.

Quickly Kiba and Naruto moved past their tent, to where they could see Shikamaru's spiky hair, tied up when his helmet was removed, sticking up in the reflection of a small fire. Moving fairly efficiently and keeping a firm grip on the parcel they shared between them, they staggered to the glowing fire, striped in the shadows of the forest, and lay down their load. Sasuke and Shino sat on the muddy ground with Shikamaru, the former poking the fairly strong fire with a stick and the other gazing at the flames tiredly as he dangled a pot of water over them.

Naruto smiled, still able to hear the struggles and shouts of Platoon Three in the nearby darkness. 'No easy task lighting a fire in the rain, Sir,' he addressed Shikamaru, who was opening the food parcel with a small knife. 'Genma's crowd are still trying over there.' Kakashi glanced in the direction of Platoon Three, who were, true to Naruto's word, struggling and shouting at each other in the hazy hot drizzle.

The Lieutenant pulled out a shiny tin of cocoa and a tin of stewed steak from the neatly wrapped but slightly soggy parcel. 'It's an easy task when your Captain smokes so many damned cigarettes that he refuses to leave the barracks without making sure he has a box of matches in his breast pocket!'

Removing a tin of oats from the parcel with muddy hands, Naruto smiled over at Sasuke, whose pale face glowed in the firelight. 'So the Captain _does_ have his uses!'

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at him, the smoke from his cigarette rising up and merging with the smoke of their fire as it clambered upwards into the sky. 'You've got me all wrong, Naruto. I wouldn't use my matches to light a fire for you losers. I'm saving them for my coffin nails.'

Kiba looked confused as he cracked open a tin of tea and reached for one of the mugs Shino had placed by the fire. Genma's shouts could still be heard over the crackle of the flames and the hiss of the water as it began to boil.

'If you didn't light the fire with your matches, Sir, then how—'

'Again, you appear to have misunderstood,' Sasuke dropped a small tea tablet _(tea was sent to soldiers in tablets, not bags)_ into his mug and Shino poured some water into it. 'Any milk lying around?'

Shikamaru tossed him a tin of Nestlé's condensed milk, and as he dropped some into his tea, Sasuke smirked, tossing an almost empty box of matches at his Lieutenant.

'I didn't use _my_ matches, Kiba. I stole _theirs_.'

* * *

_Midnight_

The journey is rickets and bumps and jostles of soil and scrapping tyres. The tarpaulin is damp and the rain tickles the top of it relentlessly. Travelling alone, shrouded in deception, is no easy task. With as much courage as can be mustered, the soldier peers out from the sanctuary of the heavy grey tarpaulin, trying to gain a bearing or two without much luck. '_It'll be clear enough when it stops,'_ thinks the lonely soldier, creeping back into a curled up lump of crinkled stowaway. '_I imagine I'll know it when I see it.'_

Impulse leads to these situations. Impulse causes wars. For now, impulse can wait.

The journey continues.

* * *

_2.48am, 27th July 1917, Sanctuary Wood, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

Gunshots.

Four, counted Naruto as he bolted upwards from sleep.

One.

Two.

Three. Four.

Perhaps he missed one.

Either way, there were gunshots.

Five?

Sasuke was already at the opening of the tent, boots strapped on and helmet at the ready, feeling around behind him for his rifle while his head peered out gingerly into the wet black of the forest. Kiba smacked into life next to him as another bullet shot was heard in the heat of the air. His eyes were wide.

'What the hell is happening?' he exclaimed in a hushed whisper as he clambered from beneath his blanket. Naruto followed suit, handing the still groping Sasuke his rifle before picking up his own from the small weaponry pile in the corner.

'Hold on a second, Captain. They're not loaded.'

Sasuke glanced back at them from his crouch at the entrance of the tent. The front of his face shimmered with water; clearly the rain hadn't let up.

'I can't see anything. It sounds like it's quite a way up the line, near the front. Still, it's not safe to just stay here and wait to see what happens.'

He paused in his speech, picking up some bullets and a small handful of gunpowder to drop into his weapon. Kiba and Naruto did the same hurriedly, fingers shaking as they fumbled through the well-rehearsed routine. They swiftly pulled on their boots and jackets.

'Wake Shikamaru,' Sasuke ordered sharply, his pale face quite visible in the darkness of early morning. 'How has he slept through this?'

'Sir', reported Kiba as he shook the slumbering pile of blankets, 'he's not here.'

'What?'

Kiba threw back the blankets and proved his point. 'He's not here, Sir.'

Sasuke's expression darkened and he cursed under his breath. Naruto awaited his orders silently, attempting to ignore the clutch of fear beginning to clamber from his bones to his muscles and into his heart. More gunshots. Silence. Gunshot. Two more. Silence. Where was the Lieutenant?

'Stay here a second,' Sasuke suddenly broke the silence, slinging the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. 'I'm going to find Copycat. I can't give us orders to move without his authorisation. Wait here till I return unless you feel your lives are directly threatened. Clear?'

'Sir.' The two youngest members of Platoon Seven chorused their understanding in a united whisper and Sasuke swept out of the tent.

And they waited.

* * *

_Early morning_

The journey continues.

'Strange, Sir.'

'What's strange, Sergeant?'

'This woodland here, Sir. Undamaged by attack; trees still standing. Rare around here.'

'Very rare, Sergeant.'

'Is it Allied territory, Sir?'

'It is, but I would avoid it unless it was absolutely necessary to go through it.'

'Why is that, Sir?'

'All those trees, Sergeant? Think of the cover they offer the enemy at nightfall. Perfect place for a well-executed ambush, if you ask me. Oh no. We'll be passing wide west of Sanctuary Wood, I tell you that.'

The conversation seems important – too important to miss, almost chillingly prophetic – but the soldier under cover of plastic and darkness finds weariness crawling upon them like a creeping shadow in the sunset, and their last thoughts as they slide into unconsciousness revolve upon a hinge of pity for anybody caught in a well-executed ambush under the cover of the tall trees – trees that roll right past as the journey continues.

* * *

_2.57am, 27th July 1917, Sanctuary Wood, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

Sasuke returned swiftly without injury to the tent where Naruto and Kiba sat still, awaiting his return with wide eyes. The ratio of gunshots to silence had altered drastically, and now the sounds of heavy gunfire drifted back from the more northerly points of the area battalions twelve and thirteen had deemed safe to rest in. If Sasuke squinted hard into the distance he could see the faint explosions of rifle fire blossoming briefly in the rain before fizzling into darkness again.

He shook himself dry as he climbed into the tent. 'Any sign of Shikamaru?'

'None, Sir,' replied Kiba, and Naruto shook his head. Sasuke sighed.

'Copycat's safe, as well as Third Platoon. Our orders are to advance slowly north, using the cover of the trees, and find out what the hell is going on while assisting in the scramble up there. I don't like it, but it's got to be done. If the fight is over or there are no men left, orders are to move through the woodland to the southeast and rendezvous at Gheluvelt trenches by midday tomorrow. Any objections?'

Two shakes.

'Move out,' the black haired Captain barked. Naruto noticed that he smoked no cigarette. Probably too bright in the darkness. 'Keep an eye out for the Lieutenant.'

* * *

_3.14am, 27th July 1917, Sanctuary Wood, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

He'd gone for a walk. A long walk. That's all.

Sleep had, once again, evaded him viciously, and his feet had drawn him through the hollowed out trees and into the leafy rain as it began to fall more heavily into the forestland. Broken twigs and browning foliage scattered beneath his feet as he weaved further into the forest, avoiding the darker, muddier patches of ground and keeping a sharp eye out for any unexploded grenades.

The irony of ironies fell in the fact that although sleep could not find Shikamaru, he could find sleep. In this case, a sleeping soldier. A sleeping German soldier.

His mind had ticked. And ticked. Impossibly quickly. He should kill him – no, he shouldn't. Capture and interrogate? Main and return to camp? Why was he here? Was he alone, or were those voices he could hear through the dampening thud of the rain?

He had stood, poised, perfectly still, eyes fixated on the soldier, fingers pressed together across the rifle in his shaking hands. And Shikamaru's talents emerged when in about three seconds flat he came to the conclusion that battalions twelve and thirteen were about to fall victim to a very well executed ambush.

Kill the soldier? Capture and interrogate? Maim and return?

Shikamaru had turned and ran.

He had darted through the trees, mind brimming with shouts and warnings and exclamations of hurried panic and desperate knowledge. Was anyone else awake? Had the soldier awakened? Was he being chased?

His boots, thick and heavy, crashed through the damp and dying plant life on the floor of the wood as he hurled himself through the labyrinth of trees, panting heavily and attempting to ignore the stifling rain battering the skin of his face. He shot through the trees as a blur of insight and paused only for a brief moment to gain his bearings; his panic had thrown him off. His rifle had clattered and he released his grip on it, letting it dangle and swing from the strap that hung about his neck. Using his hands to propel himself and throw himself the right way, Lieutenant Shikamaru launched himself in the direction of his own squad's base, his heartbeat rising and rising as his tired feet slammed into the muddy ground. Eyes no longer on the watch for the more treacherous sections of the floor, he had found himself stuck once or twice knee deep in the mud, but floundered out determinedly and continued on his path.

Gunshots.

One.

Two.

Three. Four.

In the distance, he had judged, in the distance and not as close as he feared. Surely he hadn't run all that way? He wasn't that fast a runner (were it that his feet were as quick as his mind!) and so why was it that the gunshots he had been sure he was tearing away from seemed so distant?

Once again his thoughts had flickered into life, flaming in the burning darkness that swelled around him.

Gunshots. Distance. Closer. The sleeping German. The voices through the rain.

Cursing, Shikamaru had weighed up his options as reality continued to dawn upon him. Roughly a five or six minute run to his base, to his Captain and his Platoon. But gunshots to the northwest and a sleeping German who may be awake and may not be alone.

Growling at his own bad luck and cursing his lack of sleep, Shikamaru had turned about himself twice, seeking out a tree with a decent foothold or two. He'd soon found one to suit his purposes and as silently as he could he climbed it, ignoring scratched hands and torn clothing. He scrambled as high as he could without the branches below his body snapping in two, sweat pushing into his brow and down his face. Finally he had discovered a fairly thick branch that would support him if he lay down, and he did so, pulling his rifle out in front of him and readying himself to snipe.

When quarter past three in the morning came, Shikamaru's nervous heartbeat still hadn't calmed. From the vantage of his branch he could clearly see across the canopy of the woods, and could make out about four separate fires, lit at various points on the eastern opening of the trees. Once more he cursed, but this time he cursed his mind, and his cowardice.

He was the only soldier in the two travelling Allied battalions aware that they had fallen victim to a four-part ambush. Part one of the ambush had made a strike from the east at the most northerly quarter of the battalions' base. Parts two and three were moving towards the centre of the base – where, Shikamaru could see, the Allied soldiers were up and about, frightened and alarmed by the gunshots from the north. What terrified Shikamaru the most was the proximity of the fourth part of the attack, the men of which slinked through the trees as one, like a hungry silhouette, devouring all it came across in the direction of his own platoon.

He'd always been a coward, in his own opinion. He pictured himself from above; a cowering sparrow crouching in the trees, hiding its eyes, paralysed with fear as the man-shadow moved across him below. His heart pounded like a vicious drumbeat in his chest as his shaking, thin fingers grasped their rifle. Logic (cowardice?) told him he couldn't be a hero from this point onwards – he could perhaps get one or two decent shots in before he required that crucial twenty or so seconds to reload his rifle – an extra two bullets in his trouser pocket. By that time the Fritz scouring the ground below him would sniff him out and he would fall from the tree, a shot pheasant stripped of its feathers.

He prepped his rifle as quietly as he could as they passed beneath him; he counted thirty men who passed as he did this, thirty men removed from their whiteness or blackness or fatness or thinness who were simply aligned with the shadow and bleak nothing that blossomed in the depth of the night. His middle finger found its trigger, trembling, and he focused his sight upon one of them on the right. He breathed through his mouth in case he could be heard breathing through his nose. He squinted one eye and searched the black shape of his target. He pressed the trigger. He pressed it. He was sure he pressed it.

Target gone. No shot fired. Silence below him.

Shikamaru cursed his cowardice once more, knowing his finger hadn't come close to applying the pressure of a shot to the trigger. His fear made him freeze, made all but his mind fall into a paralysis. Made him no more than a helpless bird holed up in a tree, preparing to watch as its companions were slaughtered.

Genma.

He hadn't quite expected to see Captain Genma slink around the base of a nearby tree. He watched as the Captain, fully armed and helmeted, looked around the small clearing below Shikamaru's hiding place with narrowed eyes that pierced through the darkness. The moonlight was beginning to perforate the rain, and a mercifully small amount of light crept onto the Captain's face. Shikamaru followed Genma's gaze as he made a small sign with his hand. His eyes fell upon Captain Sasuke, mirroring Genma's pose, his back rigid against a tree, midnight eyes scanning the area systematically before he raised an identical hand sign back at Genma.

The two captains stepped into the clearing, rifles at the ready, and Platoons Three and Seven followed them. Shikamaru's panic lifted a little as he realised his squad was safe from attack for now, as somehow they had avoided a collision with the oncoming German ambush. The moonlight spilled through the jade leaves and onto the faces of his companions, and relief flooded him.

He watched for a moment as the two captains quickly discussed which way to move forward, but his mind had already bounded ahead of him, and he sat up, not noticing the lark that watched him from a smaller branch nearby. He tried his best to see through the rain and the night and focused his gaze on the thirty-strong German patrol moving nearby. They were barely ten metres away, and once they realised that the rear end of the battalions' base had been cleared of all its men (Shikamaru imagined that these two platoons were not the only ones who had made a move away from the south base) they would come back, on the hunt. He had to warn his platoon that they were in danger without raising an alarm.

Heart beginning to race again, Shikamaru felt the fear start to leave him as the desire to protect drained into him. Ever wary of the German forces at his back, the Lieutenant reached into his pocket and felt around hurriedly, not for bullets or powder, but for the box of matches his Captain had stolen from Platoon Three in good humour earlier on. Once his fingers clasped around it he pulled a match out of the box before taking aim and praying for silence.

He hadn't intended the box of matches to hit Lieutenant Sai in the head, but he hadn't intended his walk to turn into such a disaster and it had. Shikamaru was getting used to the twists and turns fate decided to throw his way, and watched as Sai's head was knocked forward a little by the matches.

The quiet Lieutenant on the ground did not cry out, but spun on his heel, face painted in suspicion as he inspected the small area around him. Genma noticed him pause, and halted their advance.

'What is it, Sai?' His voice was no more than a whisper. Sai frowned.

'I got hit, Sir.'

Kiba and Naruto cocked their rifles, shortly followed by Lee and Chouji. Shino remained silent and motionless, and Sasuke made his way over to Genma.

'With what?' hissed Genma, 'There were no gunshots!'

Sasuke examined Sai very carefully. There was no mark on his helmet; he was in no pain. He had very definitely heard the sound of _something_ connecting with the metal of the helmet, although it didn't sound like a bullet.

'_Some new Alleyman contraption to knock us off our guard?' _he thought suspiciously, whirling around to survey the area. Naruto was bent to the ground, fiddling with something in the muddy soil. The blond, hair spiking out from beneath his helmet and his eyes still the brightest blue Sasuke had ever seen, even in this darkness, wore a smirk on his young face.

'Look, Sir. It's the matches you stole!'

Sasuke's stomach hitched, and his mind, not the fastest but fast enough, began to move. While Genma scowled at him and Chouji quietly exclaimed: 'The Captain took them?', Sasuke found his gaze averted to the thick murky treetops. His eyes stole through the deep green shrubbery furiously until he saw, dimmed by the blistering rain, a face lit by a flame and white in its glow.

'Shikamaru.'

The Lieutenant was dangling his upper body from a branch, meaning he was upside-down but his hands were free. He was beckoning them to join him with both arms, and he held a small lit match in between his pearly teeth. His expression was that of sheer panic.

Sasuke acted quickly.

* * *

_Early morning_

As always, it seems, the journey continues – too busy to stop for the sound of gunfire to the south. The route is long and swoops very widely around the woodland before it will reach Gheluvelt. The brave soldier in the back of the truck, swept away under the tarpaulin, sleeps soundly, unaware of the gunshots, of the smell of the fear, of the men in the forest, and, instead of worrying, dreams of promises and mercy as the journey continues.

* * *

_11.20am, 27th July 1917, Gheluvelt, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

Moving in the trees proved much more difficult than they had anticipated. They couldn't possibly jump from branch to branch without serious risk of injury or worse, capture. Instead, the men of Platoons Three and Seven worked their way slowly ('and steadily wins the race, Copycat,') but safely across the stronger looking branches, careful of their footing, trying their best to move in silence through the leaves and twigs thirty feet above ground level. Both Sasuke and Genma had agreed that the best course of action was to try and escape the forest and reroute to the lake north of it, bypassing any battle that may be raging between the attacking forces and the rest of the twelfth and thirteenth battalions. They imagined that those who had fled would be greater in number than those who had stayed to fight off the ambush – their journey through the treetops had, as the sun began to emerge in the distance, provided them with a view of the ground below, and they hadn't counted more than one hundred allied casualties. They occasionally glimpsed a few German soldiers patrolling small areas of the woods, but no organised gatherings were spotted. Naruto wondered if they were rebel forces that had been separated from the main army – he found it hard to understand that only two hundred Germans had been sent out for an ambush in the hopes of it being successful. Genma, however, believed it was safer to still move through the trees, just in case, and by the time the sun had finally aroused itself from slumber and travelled a good way into the rainy sky, Platoons Three and Seven had made it out of the forest safely and began to make their way to Gheluvelt through Allied territory. They were joined by numerous other platoons that had abandoned Sanctuary Wood in the hope of making Gheluvelt by noon, and at ten past eleven about one and a half thousand men from the Messines ridge arrived fairly safely in the reserve lines on the trenches of Gheluvelt.

Sasuke surveyed the land of Gheluvelt with distaste. Upon arriving, little more than ten minutes ago, he'd been greeted by Kakashi and his superior, Lieutenant Colonel Asuma Sarutobi, who had both congratulated he and Genma on moving the squads safely from the ambushed area. Genma had received the praise quite happily, seemingly more interested in how Kakashi and Neji escaped the woodland, but Sasuke quickly passed the compliment on to Shikamaru, noting his talent for reading a situation and rewarding him with the absolute promise of two extra packets of cigarettes from next week's rations. Naruto and Kiba had gone with Shikamaru to explore the dugout they'd been assigned to for now, and Sasuke, not feeling in the mood for much talk, had simply remained above ground on the reserve lines, taking in the land around him.

The rain had eased off into a fine drizzle, and a surprising amount of sunshine was creeping through the dreary air around them. The red of the poppies that seemed to inhabit this part of Ypres glowed in the sunlight, waving belligerently as Sasuke walked around the area, noting the collapsed areas of ground and the shell-hole puddles of rainwater that had collected overnight. This land hadn't been Allied for long, and the land was still war torn and ravaged. Plots of barbed wire spiralled upwards, glinting in the sun, cut and torn on nights not long ago, and the occasional helmet or item of military clothing lay about half buried in the mud. Here and there patches of grass had survived, and poppies were beginning to crowd the greenery.

About twelve supply trucks drove past Sasuke as he lit up a cigarette, wondering at the difference in foliage and greenery between the Gheluvelt trenches and Sanctuary Wood. He couldn't help but tone out the dull whine of the trucks' engines as he listened to the barrage that was still in effect on the German trenches until almost midnight on the thirtieth of July – three days. Three days to familiarise themselves with the land, with the terrain, the structure of life in these trenches, before they'd be out there on the front, cutting the barbed wire themselves and missing the moments by the fire in the woodland.

Three days.

The supply trucks pulled to a halt nearby, and Sasuke watched as the soldiers in the front of the trucks began to unload the items from the back. He recognised the parts for the Lewis machine gun, and noted a large number of gas masks, as well as hundreds of food parcels and rations. One truck seemed dedicated to medical supplies, as a number of bandages and bottles of medicine Sasuke didn't understand were unloaded from it.

The vehicle at the front of the line of trucks seemed to be attracting some attention, and Sasuke made to move toward it. A crowd of soldiers had gathered around the rear of the truck and were shouting at it in words Sasuke couldn't quite make out (he wondered whether his ears had managed to heal properly after the Messines explosions or whether the words were being muffled by the ever constant moan of the barrage in the distance). He was about to move even closer when a hand clasped itself onto his shoulder, and he turned away from the commotion to scowl at whoever it was who thought it was alright to grab him without a word of warning.

Facing him were two men, one around the same height as himself and one a little taller, both in medic wear and both offering him the same identical grin. The taller one, sweepingly long black hair tied back in a deep purple ribbon but draped forward over his uniform, held out a hand. The smaller looked on through thick spectacles. Sasuke frowned as the black haired one spoke.

'So nice to meet you, Captain Uchiha.'

Sasuke took the tall man's hand hesitantly, wondering if he should be remembering this man's name at some point soon. His bemusement must have been clear, because the tall man laughed as they shook hands, and the shorter one spoke in a smooth, amused voice.

'We've never met, Captain Uchiha – we insist, though, on meeting all our new recruits upon arrival. This is the head medic of the southern Gheluvelt trenches, Doctor Orochimaru, and I am his assistant, Kabuto Yakushi. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

Sasuke pulled his hand back gingerly from the doctor, who continued to smile at him a little too pleasantly.

'Nice to meet you, Doctor, Kabuto.'

* * *

_Blazing sunshine_

The tarpaulin is pulled back roughly, and a surprised face glares at the brave soldier in the back before raising the alarm. Almost instantly, before the sleepy-eyed soldier can move from the position they have assumed for the past twelve or so hours, a crowd of people dressed in fine and smart uniform have gathered around the crumpled tarpaulin as it lies useless upon the muddy ground. Their eyes never leave the brave soldier, who tries to explain themselves, a rabbit in a snare, and their accusations grow louder and crueller as the moments pass.

For a moment the soldier can see him, cigarette in mouth despite the warnings, dark eyes roaming the forlorn landscape with an exhausted look upon his face. He sees the commotion, and is about to approach. He is approaching. The Captain is approaching. The brave soldier sees a chance. The Captain is within hearing distance.

The soldier calls, and Sasuke, tall against the flattened ground and the pouring sun, seems to listen for a moment. A hand takes his shoulder. He frowns, disturbed. He turns. His attention is lost. He is gone – gone to another medic, and only the back of his head can be seen.

Sakura Haruno is dragged from the truck she bravely stowed away in, the soldier's uniform she stole hanging uselessly about her thin figure, and, despite journey and valour and honest heart and a wish to help where she is needed, is pulled in the opposite direction to that of the man she followed. His eyes are not upon hers. Her pink hair glows brighter than the poppies.

They miss each other by moments.

Mere moments.

Three days.

* * *

**Sherby: Whooooooo that was a long one. Nearly six thousand words. Boy howdy. **

**Ya know what, guys and gals? I think six thousand words deserves a review!**

**I'll be back with the next chapter as soon as possible! Thanks for reading! (Sherby wanders off to take a bath – heaven knows she needs one!)**


	6. Impossibilities

**Sherby: I know, it's been a while. I haven't had any internet access (except the few moments I can steal at my boyfriend's house to check my emails) and so I haven't been able to post. Never fear! Chapter six is here – and Chapter seven shall follow shortly! (although I am simultaneously moving house and starting my teaching course this weekend / Monday so bear with me)**

* * *

_**One**_

_**Chapter Six; Impossibilities**_

_3.04pm, 29th July 1917, Gheluvelt Reserve Lines, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

_: Orders: Take Gheluvelt Plain; bombardment of enemy lines cease 11.58 hours 30__th__ July, Fourth Regiment offensive begin 04.00 hours 31__st__ July :_

The sunshine hadn't lasted particularly long. Roughly a day and a half after it had emerged the rain had begun to pour again, more heavily than it had in Sanctuary Wood. The heat that had prickled the soldiers earlier had dissipated too, leaving a chilled saturated climate that made leaving the dugout almost impossibly difficult in the morning.

Platoon Seven had spent most of their time holed up in a small above-ground dugout smaller than Skinny had been, constructed mostly from sandbags and the odd plank of sodden wood. And while Naruto did his best to pass the time quietly, the hours rolled sullenly into one another as though they were crawling. Trapped in by the heavy rain (which, Naruto had noticed, had a tendency to leak right over the foot of his bed) the men had little to do but watch the failing weather and try to keep their imaginations in check. A busy schedule, however, had been laid out for them from four this afternoon until lights out, and then tomorrow would be spent checking and double-checking weaponry and equipment as well as going through the briefing over and over again. Socialising would have been nice but the rain dampened the enjoyment of even the smallest things.

When he _was _able to leave the dugout, Naruto found himself wandering over to the Clearing Station. At first he'd been a little disgusted with himself; feeding a morbid fascination with the agony-stricken casualties by watching the unlucky soldiers as they were stretchered in wasn't what he would call healthy. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the blood, drifting along the floor in the heavy rain, or the blisters – blisters he did not recognise or really understand – as big as fists that harboured themselves upon the faces and bodies of the men.

After few hours of watching, Naruto realised he was doing it to prepare himself. At least, that's what he liked to think. To prepare himself for what he might see up there – blood and blisters and all – in such a way that he might keep his head and survive his time over the top. He couldn't imagine anything worse than freezing the moment he clambered off the firestep and into the fray – although he couldn't decide which would upset him more: the fact that his terror and shock would probably lead to his own death, or the disappointment on his team-mate's faces. Nobody wanted to let anybody down out there.

And so Naruto found himself, at three in the afternoon, about a day before he'd be lining up on the front line, sitting in the rain on a soggy patch of grass and watching the doctors and nurses frittering in and out of the Clearing Station – an abandoned Belgium farm house which had been cleaned out to the best of the nurses' abilities and then extended with multiple medical tents and canopies – with their patients, who were all injured to varying degrees.

Today the nurses seemed tense. He occasionally caught sight of the two doctors who had introduced themselves to him the day they had arrived – he had instantly disliked the long-haired one, and hadn't yet made up his mind about his apprentice with the glasses – but they only really tended to come out into the rain for the most severely injured patients. Some soldiers were dropped off in batches either by a horse-drawn cart or by ambulance wagon, and the nurses were really hectic then, trying to get them all inside out of the bad weather and attempting to sort the dying from the seriously wounded, the seriously wounded from the wounded, and the wounded from the exhausted.

Naruto didn't like the way most of the work was left to the nurses, and the doctors hardly ever came out into the rain. Moreover, he had spotted the one with the glasses shouting very aggressively at a skinny young nurse who, by her flustered and exaggerated movements, was either new to the field or completely at a loss because of the high levels of patients being deposited. Naruto hoped that if he was injured (and he prayed that he wasn't) then he could avoid the doctors.

He also found his thoughts lingering on the image he could remember of the Prime Minister. The Flash. The man they were doing it for. Naruto wasn't sure whether he'd ever admired somebody as much in his life. Kiba had said something offhandedly a while back commenting on how the Flash was always in his office and never had to fight on the field (the mud, the blood, the blisters) but Naruto didn't really think that Kiba understood the man's job quite right. The Prime Minister was looking after everybody at home; keeping their spirits up, recruiting more soldiers, drafting people into factories to make their jackets and their guns and their rations. He couldn't just leave his office – how could he? Who would run the country if the Flash was killed on the field?

Kiba didn't understand at all, Naruto decided. The aim of the pawn was to protect the king. Even if the pawn was a sacrificial piece. The game was lost when the king was captured.

Naruto was a despondent figure.

'Hey, Idiot.'

Sasuke had affectionately (so Naruto tried to convince himself) come up with the nickname of 'Idiot' for the youngest member of his platoon after trouncing him at fifteen straight games of black jack, and the name appeared to have stuck. Naruto turned away from the Clearing Station and sure enough, behind him stood the Captain.

'What the heck are you doing?'

Naruto scowled. 'Preparing myself, oh Captain, my Captain. Quit calling me an idiot.'

'I didn't call you "an idiot". I just called you "Idiot". You're one of a kind.'

'Why'd you call me that?'

'Because I beat you at every single game of cards we play, Idiot.'

'No, I mean why are you _still _calling me that?!'

'It has a nice ring to it.'

Naruto's scowl released – it hadn't been serious in the first place – as Sasuke took a seat next to him, grumbling momentarily about the wetness of the grass on his rear end. They sat in silence for a while, watching with a sort of melancholic interest as an ambulance wagon, clearly recognisable by the red cross slashed along its side, dropped off a good eight or ten soldiers who were all in decent enough condition but shared one common ailment. They could walk, and they could talk, well enough, but all of the soldiers wore thick grey bandages across their eyes, wrapped around the back of their bare heads. As they got out of the wagon they each placed a hand on the shoulder of the soldier in front of them, and soon they had formed a short line that was easily led inside by two nurses. When they were gone, of course, more casualties arrived. The Clearing Station was never quiet.

'What do you suppose that was?' asked Naruto a little sombrely. 'How were they all blinded?'

Sasuke shrugged with a shake of his head. 'No clue. Could be chlorine but we've all got two gas masks each. Besides, chlorine is too thin a gas to use in this weather – I don't know if it'd even work in this rain.'

Silence fell between the two again. They made a miserable picture – hunched up on the ground, watching fate replay itself over and over before them in the Clearing Station, hair drenched and hanging down in their faces. A despondent duo on a despondent day.

'Well thanks for the invite, gents!'

A despondent foursome on a despondent day.

Naruto didn't like to think that this might be the last time that Platoon Seven sat together, huddled against the rain as one small collection of soldiers who had become more than a collection.

They had become friends.

Shikamaru politely revealed that he and Kiba had been searching for Naruto and the Captain to inform them that their four o clock practise session in the Bull Ring had been pushed back a little to quarter to. Sasuke thanked Shikamaru for being so prompt (the sarcasm dripped, of course) and ordered he and Kiba to go to the Bull Ring immediately. Naruto and himself would follow soon.

A despondent duo.

'Listen, Naruto,' Sasuke said quietly as Shikamaru and Kiba made their move. 'Sitting around here isn't going to do you any good. Watching guys come in with holes in their bodies and praying that won't be you isn't exactly what you need to be doing about now.'

'That's not it, Captain.' Naruto offered him a smile. 'You've misunderstood me.'

'Then why?'

Unsure of how to express himself properly, Naruto pointed to a man being carried in on a thin stretcher. His face was bloodied and on first glance it appeared as though his wounds were caused by shrapnel.

'You see that soldier down there?' Sasuke nodded, and Naruto continued, looking hopeful. 'Well, just yesterday I couldn't look at a case like that without feeling sick to my stomach, feeling blind with fear. Yet now it isn't so much of a problem. The way I see it is that if I can prepare myself for what I'm going to see when we're up there, then I'm less likely to freeze up on you guys and make a mistake that could cause all of our deaths.'

He paused for a moment, watching a nurse apply a bandage to the man's face gently before helping him inside the station.

'That's stupid, Idiot.' Sasuke broke his thoughts, his eyes dark and painted with something that Naruto couldn't recognise. 'What makes you think this is going to prepare you? For bullets? For wire? For your friends falling down around you like birds shot out of the sky? All these people are _alive_, Idiot. Most of the people you see over the top will be _dead_.'

'I can't help it.' Naruto looked a little pained, and his speech came out awkwardly. 'I don't know why… I don't know _why_… but I…I just can't bear the thought of seeing you – any of you – taken away… because of me…So that's why I sit here… hoping that this is enough…'

'In the end, it doesn't matter, does it?' Sasuke's words were sharp, but his tone was not. He looked up into the sky, into the rain. 'You can't rely on other people to not abandon you. At some point you're probably going to have to face at least one of us dying.'

'That's really what you believe, Sir?'

The rain ran down his face like wiry grey snakes, and he sighed. 'I came to Belgium a year ago last week, and I came with a person very close to me. That person saved my life countless times, and I saved his once or twice. I suppose the numbers never mattered. The last time we were together he pulled me from a pile of mud twenty feet deep. Without him, I would have drowned under there.'

Naruto's attention was now diverted from the busy nurses to Sasuke's story. 'Lucky you, Captain. It's nice to have someone who cares.'

A small smile. 'That it is, Uzumaki.'

'Where is this guy now? Sent home for bravery? That would be the luckiest—'

'He's dead, Naruto.'

His face fell. 'Dead?'

'He was shot twice while pulling me out of the mud. One in the leg, and one in the back. It was the shot in the back that did it, I think. I got him to the nurses, but… well, you know.'

The Captain was still staring into the rain. It still ran down his face. 'Like I said, Idiot. Don't rely on any of us to be there all the way. None of us can fight a bullet.'

Naruto's face was grave. He fidgeted for a moment, returning his sights to the Clearing Station.

'I'll prove you wrong.'

Gaze finally averted from the bleak sky that seemed to fit him so well, Captain Sasuke snapped his head toward Naruto. 'You'll… _what_?'

'I'll prove you wrong!' His voice was more resolute now. 'And I don't care if I have no experience, and you think I'm saying all this because I don't have a clue. I know very well all that's waiting for me up there is a big fat load of bullets and shells and Fritz and wires and heck even gas that might make me blind. But I don't care! If I try hard enough then I can make it through – _you've_ done it enough times before! You can rely on me to be there _all the way_! Even if they break my arms and legs, I'll still be around to annoy you, Sasuke!'

Sasuke's expression spoke volumes. He clearly thought the nickname he had assigned Naruto was becoming more and more apt. Still, the naïve young soldier provoked a smirk out of him, and he rose stiffly to his feet, trying to ignore the rain running down his collar and onto his back.

'You idiot. You need your head smacking around with a few shells. I guess I have to put up with your nonsense until then.'

With that, the Captain was walking away, treading carefully across the muddy path that had been marked out on the field. The poppies were wilting in the unremitting thunder of rain. Naruto noticed that they looked a little pink in the water, drooping as though they were about to pushed down into the mud itself.

His thoughts reminded him of Sasuke's story, and Naruto called after his Captain as he pushed himself to his feet.

'Oy, Sasuke. You said you and the guy who saved you were close, am I right?'

Sasuke didn't pause his walking to answer Naruto. 'Correct, soldier.'

Naruto grinned, hoping to annoy his Captain a little. The mood was heavy, even though his own little outburst of optimism had brightened it a tad, and some light banter might ease the awkwardness.

'What was he, your lover? Didn't know you sat on _that _side of the fence!'

The black haired Captain paused, feet staying still just for moment so he could turn to Naruto and reply. To Naruto, the green of Sasuke's jacket seemed just a little duller; the black of his hair seemed just a little greyer. Impossible, he knew, and logic reminded him that Sasuke was only a year older than himself, but right then, in the pouring rain, jacket clinging to him desperately in the onslaught of the weather, and maybe it was just his _expression_, Sasuke looked like a man of seventy. Maybe it was just the eyes. The eyes that met his own boldly. Maybe. How could four little words weigh so heavily on a man so young? Four words?

'He was my brother.'

No anger, no bitterness, no pride, or no regret. And suddenly, gone was the aged vision of Sasuke that had startled Naruto moments ago and there he was again as normal, tall and slender, manoeuvring through the little mud-traps set by nature with a fairly youthful energy and ease.

'Hurry up, Idiot. Target practise, apparently. And I'll warn you now; Copycat's a great shot. If you're late he'll use your head as a bull's-eye.'

Still feeling a little shocked, Naruto turned back to the Clearing Station momentarily, just to steady himself, just to take it in a little more. How many people had the Captain told that to? A brother? Naruto was an only child. How on earth would it feel to lose a brother?

'_I can't imagine losing a friend is any easier,' _he thought gloomily, disinterestedly watching a pink haired nurse attending to a weeping soldier. He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine how painful a memory could be.

'A pink haired nurse…'

A pink haired nurse?

Naruto flicked his blue eyes open and scoured the nurses at the front of the Clearing Station, but none of them met the image in his head. No pink hair.

'_Impossible_.'

It was impossible.

* * *

_5.20 pm, 29th July 1917, Gheluvelt Reserve Lines, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

Kiba shuffled along the lines with a scowl on his face. Training was something he usually enjoyed – even as a child his own mother had recognised that he naturally built up a lot of nervous tension within his body, and she had quite wisely brought him a dog one particular Christmas for him to caper about with. The anxious energy building inside him was destroyed by all of the running around, and Kiba had never really grown out of the trait. Of course, he couldn't bring a dog to the front (he did miss the fuzzy little creature) and so had to be content with the energetic freedom that the Bull Ring offered him.

He always threw himself into the training vivaciously, and was usually praised for his handling of the bayonet (they practised aiming and stabbing effectively with sandbags dangling from a metal rack) and his stamina. He was too cocky (he knew it full well) and more often than not received a sharp word from Kakashi about how his overconfident ways would gain him nothing but a bullet in the behind, but he knew it wasn't really a serious complaint, and overconfidence was better than paralytic fear. Today had been no different – he refused to allow the heavy rain to dampen his enthusiasm for a little exercise – and he had performed as well as he always did until the ever-energetic (_'Ever idiotic, if you ask me,'_) Naruto managed to trip him over and he'd pulled his ankle mildly. Despite Kiba's insistence that the sprain was mild and wouldn't hold him back in any way, both Sasuke and Kakashi had ordered him to go and get his ankle checked out in the Clearing Station to check for any fractures or breaks. Shikamaru (always a shirker in training; lazy, irresponsible, and cursed with an appalling aim when it came to stabbing the sandbags) had happily offered to escort him to the medical grounds, and the two were almost there when the heavy rain transformed itself into a downpour and they had to run the last fifty or so metres as quickly as they could (Kiba, of course, demonstrated the good health of his ankle by sprinting ahead of Shikamaru and then pointing out that he did not even have to limp) in order to avoid being completely saturated.

The Clearing Station was surprisingly quiet. One or two nurses buzzed around, administering support to a patient here and there, but there were no soldiers being brought in, and no doctors to speak to. Shikamaru hailed one of the nurses quietly, and a woman with long ginger hair and thick, black-rimmed spectacles strode over to him.

'My friend here,' said Shikamaru amicably, still dripping wet from the liquid onslaught just outside, 'hurt his ankle in training today. Our platoon is due on the front tomorrow; can you just check him out to make sure he won't slow us down?'

The nurse sighed, and her annoyed look caused Kiba to frown. 'Honestly,' she said, placing her hands on her slender hips, 'I'm trying to listen in on the hearing, and I really could do _without _idiotic minor problems like this. I can see from here that your ankle is fine, soldier.'

Kiba scowled, feeling embarrassed. 'That's what I've been trying to tell everybody.'

Shikamaru was ignoring Kiba's discomfort. 'What hearing?' he asked, curiosity piqued. 'What's going on?'

The redheaded nurse sighed again, and Shikamaru boldly attempted to ignore the feeling that he was nothing more than a nuisance.

'We had a medic sneak up here a few days ago on the back of a supply truck,' she said, not seeming to care that her voice was particularly loud in the unusual stillness of the station. 'We think she moved up from Messines, but against orders, and, although she seems to be a decent enough nurse, she's got to plead her case in a military hearing.'

She spread her hands and shrugged. 'I doubt anything will come of it – she's a good nurse, and claims she only wanted to be of use to the men up here, but there's a chance the council will come down on her hard. Nobody likes a nurse who disobeys orders.'

Kiba glanced over at the only other nurse in the room that he could see – and realised that she had her ear to the wall; she was probably trying to listen in on the hearing, which he assumed must be next door. He glanced back at Shikamaru to alert his attention to the eavesdropping nurse when he saw that Shikamaru had gone a little pale.

'You alright, Shikamaru?'

His voice seemed to be ignored as Shikamaru stared at the impatient nurse. 'What was her name? This nurse that snuck up here… is she called Sakura?'

Once more, the redheaded nurse shrugged. 'How would I know? She isn't from around here. Only thing I can tell you is that she has bright pink hair; I've never seen anything like it! Red, of course, well that's understandable – and far more attractive, if you ask me – but the shade of her hair look unnatural and so dry!'

Kiba felt his own face fall. He felt Shikamaru grab his arm, mutter a quick thank you to the nurse, and the two of them ran out into the rain again. Through the slashing grey downpour he made out Shikamaru's words.

'We have to tell Sasuke.'

He wondered what the penalty was for disobeying orders in the medical corps was. He already knew what it was in the military ranks, and he chose not to imagine that the price would be the same for a nurse who simply wanted to be with the men that she cared for.

* * *

_5.58 pm, 29th July 1917, Gheluvelt Reserve Lines, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

Naruto was more than a little taken aback when Shikamaru and Kiba burst into the dugout with the speed and force of a lightning bolt. He had been playing a game of Patience with himself yet again, attempting to learn from the advice Shikamaru had given him. Sasuke had been called out for final briefings and orders, and probably wouldn't be back for a while (he had left with the comment that it always rained when he had to go out and get orders, and was hoping that wasn't a bad omen). Naruto had been glad of the relative warmth of the dugout and had wrapped his blanked around him to shelter from the chilly air that the rain sent reeling inside, and was just about to start his fifth game of cards when the two hurtled inside, spraying icy rain all over the place, and shouting for Sasuke at the top of their lungs.

He stared at them, annoyed at the water that had splayed his face. 'He's not here. Final briefings finish at six, and he said he wanted to catch up with the S.M about something…'

Kiba (whose ankle appeared to be fine now from where Naruto sat) swore loudly, and Shikamaru, bent double and leaning on his knees for support, gasped for breath.

'We need… to find him… Sakura…'

Naruto was instantly out of his covers, shoving the neatly laid out cards aside into a pile on the muddy floor. 'What about Sakura? What's happened?'

Kiba took a seat on his bed, panting heavily. 'She's here… at the Med station… but in trouble…'

Naruto's eyes widened and his mind flew back to the pink-haired nurse he'd thought he'd imagined earlier today, tending to the soldiers with the same kindness and grace he'd seen in Messines.

'I thought I was imagining things when I saw her, but…'

Kiba glared at Naruto a little viciously. 'You saw her already? And didn't tell us?'

'Didn't tell us what?'

Sasuke appeared at the entrance to the dugout, a bundle of papers buried in his jacket to stop them from getting too wet. Once again he'd gone out without his helmet and his hair was stuck to his face.

The three soldiers in the dugout were suddenly silent. The rain pelted hard outside and the scent of wet grass and soil clung to the walls.

Sasuke got inside as quickly as possible, the rain chilling his back. He threw his wet jacket onto the bed and handed a portion of the papers in his hand to Shikamaru.

'Updated maps. I want you to spend an hour or two with me later analysing them and sorting out the best rou—'

'Sakura's here!' Naruto blurted it out sharply, and it sounded like something metal and heavy hitting delicate marble. The sound cracked, and Sasuke blinked at him.

'What?'

'She snuck up from Messines,' Shikamaru looked up from his bed at the dripping Captain. 'Apparently she's in a hearing at the moment for disobedience. We thought you'd probably like to know.'

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. 'She followed us up here? How?'

'Supply truck, according to one of the nurses,' said Kiba a little timidly. 'We only just found out, Sir. We ran straight back to tell you.'

Sasuke turned, forgetting his jacket, and headed for the door. The three soldiers remaining in the dugout glanced at each other warily, but Sasuke's voice broke their worried silence.

'Kiba. How's the foot?'

Kiba looked startled. 'It's… fine, Sir.'

'Good. Rest up. If I get back and you're running around, it won't be pretty. Understood?'

'Sir. Where are you going?'

They received no answer as the Captain clambered out into the rain again.

* * *

_6.15 pm, 29th July 1917, Gheluvelt Reserve Lines, Central East Ypres, Belgium_

He was drenched through and through by the time he arrived at the Clearing Station. Although the summer nights would usually draw and dapple into the impeding darkness gently in the Belgian heat, the rain had brought with it a heavy blackness that Sasuke imagined would last until late morning tomorrow. The pounding water appeared as gritty, shimmering scratches upon the bleak, dark scenery about him as he sprinted through the muddy trenches. He scowled momentarily as he noticed that hardly any of the reserve trenches had been duck-boarded correctly and his feet were sliding further and further into the wet, sludgy soil as he ran. Still, he arrived at the station wet but in one piece, out of breath and trying to see through the mess of hair and rainwater that fell into his eyes.

He spotted a couple of nurses in a corner, huddled as though debating, and approached them quietly, aware that he was in a hospital and people would be trying to rest all around him. They noticed him after a moment and flocked to him, seeing how wet and thinly clothed he was. One in particular – a red haired, slender creature – instantly wrapped a towel around his head.

'What are you doing out in the rain?' she asked incredulously, attempting to rub his hair dry. He frowned at her, chest still heaving as he caught his breath, and pulled away from her rough hands.

'I'm looking for a particular nurse. Sakura Haruno. Is she here?'

The redhead peered at him through her thick spectacles a little suspiciously. 'How do you know about Sakura?'

He yanked his arm away from another nurse who was attempting to dry him. 'I was stationed with her in Messines. I need to see her.'

'Well you can't,' shot the redhead, whom Sasuke was beginning to dislike. 'She's currently facing trial for insubordination and dissent. She had no permission to come up here.'

Sasuke sighed, rainwater trickling down either side of his nose, and tried to force his mind to think. With the chattering nurses trying to dry him off (and the redheaded one staring at him like he was a two-headed dragon) it was more than difficult. As he stood there for a moment, breath coming easier now that his heart had time to catch up with him, a door in the back of the room opened, and Brigadier Hiashi Hyuga stepped through it, followed by a small train of well-kept soldiers.

Sasuke moved quickly, shrugging off the nurses and ignoring their complaints at his rough motion. He stepped across the wooden floor of the room sharply, painfully aware that he _really _should have taken the time to put on his jacket and complete his uniform, and stopped smartly at the Brigadier's side. The older man – thick dark hair tied back neatly in a braid and stern eyes ever dark – glared down at the younger, slightly shorter Sasuke, who saluted crisply, attempting to inject some degree of professionalism into his appearance.

'Sir, Brigadier Hyuga Sir!'

Hyuga eyed him disdainfully. 'What is it, soldier?'

Sasuke ignored the use of 'soldier' and not 'captain' (he was never one for ranks and titles) and stiffened his arm, maintaining the neat salute he had pulled himself into and never once looking into the eyes of the Brigadier.

'Sir, I humbly request to know the status of the case regarding Nurse Sakura Haruno.'

His gaze resting on Hyuga's chest (the breast of his deep green blazer was carpeted with medals), Sasuke could, out of the corner of his eye, see the older man's eyes narrow. The wrinkles between his brows creased like expensive, plush material.

'Uchiha, is it?'

Another firm, sharp nod from Sasuke. 'Yes Sir.'

He had to keep up the respectful act if he were to gain any advantage here. Ignoring the rain that continued to drip from his thick hair (how many times had Sakura asked him to cut it down a little?), Sasuke kept his gaze steady and his arm taut. Hyuga spoke with little tone or expression and was often hard to read.

'What concern is the nurse to you, Uchiha?'

Before he could even think about it the words spilled out with the ferocity of the rain plummeting down from the clouds outside.

'I heard she was being tried for dissent, Sir, and for acting without orders. I raced here as fast as I could – even forgot my jacket, Sir – to get here and tell you that Nurse Sakura Haruno was acting upon _my orders_.'

Inside he was scolding himself, almost groaning in metaphorical agony at the words he seemed to have no control over. What trouble was he landing himself into to save Sakura from her foolishness, her impulsiveness?

'Your orders, Uchiha?' The Brigadier spoke quietly, his voice clicking with disbelief. Sasuke continued as well as he could, attempting to instil truthfulness into his voice.

'Correct, Sir. She worked excellently alongside my men – all of Senior Major Kakashi's men – down in Messines, and I am sure she will be a commendable nurse up here too.'

'Is there paperwork to prove this?'

Sasuke tried not to falter. 'No, Sir. It was a… spur of the moment thing.'

He felt the Brigadier's gaze burning upon him brutally, unrelenting and disbelieving.

'Your rash and undocumented orders have wasted an hour of my time, and clocked up a fair deal of paperwork, Uchiha.'

Sasuke nodded apologetically. 'I regret that, Sir, and can assure you faithfully that the moment I return from the front that I will do my best to sort out the paperwork as quickly as possible, making sure there is no further hindrance to yourself or your time.'

This was the difficult part, he knew. Convincing Brigadier Hyuga to release Sakura and also appeasing him regarding the time wasted on a seemingly unnecessary trial was daunting. Hyuga looked the slender man up and down, eyeing his thin white shirt and shambling appearance with distaste.

'I want to see you in my office when you get back from the front, Uchiha. In the meantime, your nurse can work here; providing she proves herself as good a carer as you have made out.'

Relief seeping into his veins, Sasuke forced himself to remain stiff as he clicked his heels together smartly. 'Sir, thank you for your understanding and generosity in this manner. I'm sure Nurse Sakura will not fail to impress you.'

With a slight nod, the Brigadier swept past Sasuke, and the scent of soft cotton filled Sasuke's nostrils for a moment as he went. He waited for the tall, surly man to leave the Clearing Station before relaxing his stance, letting out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

She appeared at the door moments later. Sasuke realised she'd heard every word he'd said. She looked tired, and mildly dishevelled; her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, and her nurse's uniform didn't fit her as well as the other one did. Behind her stood the Doctor, and his bespectacled, grey haired assistant.

'Here on your orders, eh, Captain?' smirked the Doctor a little knowingly. 'I wonder why little Sakura here didn't mention that in her defence.'

Sasuke glared at him, trying to look as intimidating as possible even though he was aware that he looked pathetic, standing there shivering, half uniformed and drenched. The Doctor sidled past him, smile still creeping up his face, and was followed by Kabuto, who moved like a shadow. Sasuke kept his eyes, now more relaxed and free to move, upon Sakura, who watched him with shining, grateful eyes.

She moved to him swiftly, like water in a river. 'I can't believe you came for me,' she smiled softly, opening her arms to embrace him. Sasuke, however, stepped back stiffly, his face remaining expressionless.

'You'll be working under the Doctor while you're here, Sakura,' he said thinly, evening out the distance between them. 'I expect you to fully comply with his orders. Is that clear?'

Sakura's face betrayed her confusion, and her green eyes were crinkled by a frown. 'I understand, Sir.'

She dropped her voice, aware that the other nurses might be listening to her.

'Why are you being like that? I came up here to be with _you_, to watch over you, to take _care_ of you!'

Sasuke scowled at her, his own voice low and steady as he replied.

'You've caused me a great deal of trouble, Sakura. I'm on the Front tomorrow. I should be with my men, resting, planning, preparing. Here I am running around in the rain trying to save you – and from what? Your own impetuous foolishness.'

Her eyes widened, and then narrowed again in anger. 'I wasted my time for you? Is that it? Risking my life coming up here to be with you – with _all _of you – was just "foolishness" now?'

She noticed how his shirt clung to his firm body as he breathed in, out, in, out. He was absolutely soaked, and she realised that he really had run out without his jacket to help her.

'Your words are lies,' she said, more softly this time. 'If you'd turned up in your overcoat, I might have believed you.'

He sighed – sighed the way he always did when she disarmed him with her supple voice and calm jade irises.

'I can't stay,' he said, hating how his voice suddenly sounded helpless and young, as though the experience he had gained meant nothing. 'I need to be with my men.'

He did not embrace her – said no encouraging words nor offered her a kind, forgiving smile – but simply turned and walked wearily away, aware that he had left a puddle upon the wooden planks of the floor. His men needed him; he was their leader, and was there to encourage _them_, to plan with them, to strategise with Shikamaru, to poke gentle fun at the clown-like Kiba, and to play cards with Naruto, to build him, to advise him, to prepare him. He had promises to keep, and in order to keep them, he needed rest and contemplation; not compassion, and gentle hands, and disarming eyes.

Sasuke knew that the minute he turned around and ran to her, any dream of a future with Sakura would shrivel into a pillar of salt. She was comfort, she was fleeting, innocent happiness.

Those things could only come to him if survival came first.

* * *

**Sherby: And another chapter done for my lovely readers. Again, sorry about the wait. Again, it's unbetaed – I PROMISE that the lovely Narni will receive chapter seven before I put it up and be able to use her wonderful skills in order to make this story even BETTER!**

**For now, please drop me a review and let me know what you thought!**

**Next chapter – the dreaded time arrives. Our boys are sent over the top, into the fire of bullets and shells, and surviving becomes a heck of a lot tougher!**

**I write terrible summaries…**


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